Burial of the Dead
by thevillainsmustache
Summary: In my 7th year, as The Dark Lord was waging war on the Wizarding World, I was chosen to hold the position of head girl under the assumption that I would do everything in my power (and willingness) to protect the students of Hogwarts from the pervasive evils trying to corrupt it, and just to make things more interesting, Malfoy was the head boy.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 1. Let us go then, you and I

The crimson Hogwarts express sat at platform 9 3/4 billowing steam, and I kissed my father with his wild grey brown hairs goodbye. His blue eyes looked grey circled in red as they were, but his blotchy face was still strong. I ushered first years onto the train, as the whistle blew, and it was the first moment I had alone with my thoughts all day, and likely it would be the last. Anxiety tore at my chest, and the badge that hung there was heavy. What was I going to do? The train started to move, and I hopped on board. I looked back to wave to my father, but he was gone.

I passed a compartment where Ginny, Neville, and Luna were sitting together, and I waved and poked my head in.

"I can't stay," I said as an excuse to stay away. "I need to check compartments. "

"Hello Frey. Thats right," Luna said, dreamily. "You're head girl now."

"It's weird, you know. We all thought Hermione was going to be head girl." Ginny said, fingering a broom handle that was leaning against her thigh.

"Yeah. I don't know how I feel about it."

And I didn't. The letter I received that held the news and my badge also had a letter from professor McGonagall, explaining the situation. As Hermione was not returning to Hogwarts this year, a replacement was required for the seventh year Gryffindor girls prefect position, and she appointed me. Then I was elected as head girl. Many of the professors were Anti-Voldemort and thought a Gryffindor influence would benefit the student community. She also asked me to come to the Head's carriage 10 minutes before the meeting with the heads so that she could discuss the situation with me at greater length.

I already knew what this meeting was going to be about, and I already knew what I was going to say. She would tell me how the school needed me right now, a strong, intelligent Gryffindor to lead the school through these troubled times. I would tell her that they had the wrong Gryffindor. Take who ever they had "chosen" as the men's seventh year to take Ron's place to "lead the school" while Voldemort killed our families. But I knew what she would say to that too.

The compartment at the head of the Hogwarts Express was empty when I arrived, except for a bowl of biscuits on the round table with three chairs. I sat to the side of the door, and waited, tempted to have a biscuit. McGonagall entered moments later.

"You're early, Ms. Ollivander," she said, sitting down in the plushest of the chairs in the compartment.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I suppose I was anxious."

"Perfectly reasonable. Have a biscuit."

I hesitated before reaching out for the bowl and taking a couple of biscuits.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Thank you, Professor."

She poured a cup for the both of us, and took a sip of her's before looking me dead in the eyes.

"You've always been an excellent student Ollivander, one of the best in your year. The only reason that y0u were not originally chosen as prefect was because Ms. Granger was the obvious choice, that and that we needed her to keep Potter and Weasley in line." She paused. "You were also not chosen because you have always been a deeply selfish student."

I shifted in my seat, and took a long drink of my tea. It burned my tongue.

"I discussed with other of your Professors in your first year the possibility that you should have been in placed Slytherin, but the hat is never wrong, so it is not our place to judge. Then, over the next five years, I saw how desperate situations brought out the best in you. You participated in the movement run my Mr. Potter called "Dumbledore's Army" in your fifth year, an act of resistance against oppression. You're prideful to a fault, wilful, and deceitful, but also clever, brave, and loyal." She sipped her tea. "I don't know if you're ready for this, but He Who Must Not Be Named isn't waiting until we are ready. The school needs you, the staff needs you, and most of all the students need you. It is time for you to put away your childish ways."

"But Professor McGonagall, this is unfair. You can't seriously expect me to guard the whole student body against You Know Who, against themselves. You know better than I do that he has reached deep into the student community. There is nothing I can do."

"I expect nothing from you, Ollivander, but the students do. By default of your position you will have the respect of your peers, and the power to influence them. I cannot give you direction, but I know that at the very least, you will bring some hope to many who have lost it. You cannot bring down He Who Must Not Be Named, or even stand up against him on your own, but you're not alone. There is a network of students and staff that are fighting. I am simply asking for you to be a part of that network, and resist with us."

"I don't want this," I said, feeling my heart pour out.

"Then don't do it. You know the basic functions of the Head Girl. Abide by those, and half the battle will have already been fought. I know you will feel differently."

I reached back, wrapping my long black hair into a bun and pinning it in place with a stick I had stowed in my robes. "I sincerely doubt it. What were your other options, professor?"

"There were none. Mr. Longbottom was chosen to replace Mr. Weasley as prefect, and he would have been our first choice as head, but Professor Snape was adamant about the placement of Head Boy." Her face transformed from a frown to a grimace of contempt.

"Who's Head Boy, then?"

McGonagall checked her watch and shook her head when the compartment door opened.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 2. By this grace resolved in place

"My apologies Professor. I thought this was the prefects' carriage. Can you point me in the direction of someone more qualified to lead this meeting?" His tail-tell precocious drawl pierced the quiet in the same way that mouth noises and heavy breathing from the man across the deli grate across your patience. I could see in McGonagall's eyes that she felt the same way.

"Please, sit down, Malfoy. Need I remind you that you are not exempt from receiving detention simply because you can hand them out?"

He leaned over his chair to take a biscuit, hovering over me in a way that made my skin crawl. "Good Afternoon, Ollivander," he whispered, and my hand gripped my wand hard enough for my a cramp to grip me.

The words 'eat shit, Malfoy,' were filling my head, but luckily I had developed a filter in year 4 when I insulted Crabbe's father at the Quidditch World Cup. I was later told I called him a pig walking on his hind legs, not very kind, even to a Death Eater. I still have a scar under my left eye, and I missed the attack of the Death Eaters, due to being unconscious and in St. Mungo's.

Malfoy leaned against the wall of the carriage, refusing the invitation to sit. "Where is Professor Snape?"

"He could not be spared from his duties at the castle, Mr. Malfoy."

Mouth full of biscuit, he grimaced and muttered quietly.

McGonagall gave a short speech about the duties of the heads, echoing her statements about leading the students through these trouble times, and Malfoy remained silent for the most part, occasionally releasing an unsympathetic snort. Soon after, the rest of the Prefects entered, including Neville. I gave up my seat to stand next to him, as far away from Malfoy as I could manage. When the meeting was adjourned, Malfoy held the door for everyone, and being one of the last to leave, he stood right in the doorway, forcing me to push past him to leave the small compartment. I jabbed him in the thigh with my wand through my robes, causing him to double over behind me. I took Neville's arm and we dashed off together through the compartments.

"I can't believe they made Malfoy head boy," Neville said once we were stowed in a compartment with Ginny and Luna again, and Neville took Trevor back from Luna who was holding him and stroking his lumpy back.

"I mean, it's not all that unbelievable when you think about it. The headmaster chooses the heads, and why wouldn't Snape choose Malfoy?" I slouched in frustration. The sun was low in the sky and I knew we were almost to Hogsmeade. I should have been preparing to lead the first years off the train, but I missed my friends, and I wanted to hear their thoughts on recent developments.

Ginny was leaning forward conspiratorially. "But then why would he have chosen you? Why not the Slytherin seventh year prefect girl?"

I chucked. "Because Millicent Bulstrode is dull as a table lamp. McGonagall gave some very good reasons for choosing me, so maybe Snape deferred the decision to her."

"That doesn't seem likely," Neville said to Trevor.

"It's just horrible. You're going to have to live with him all year."

My eyes snapped up to Luna's. "Excuse me?'

She sighed and shifted her weight. "The head boy and girl share a dormitory."

I stood and turned to the compartment door. "I think I'm gonna puke."

I closed the door behind me, looking for someplace to be alone. I thought company would help with my current predicament, but it was all I could talk about and nothing was going to make it better. I sat on the steps of the carriage, watching through the window of the door as the train passed mountains. This was all a real cock up, wasn't it. I don't want Malfoy to be head boy, and I don't want to be head girl. I barely want to be at school. I want to be with my father, maybe looking for my uncle. I ran my hands over my face and waited there for a long time, waiting for some kind of distraction to come along. As the train was pulling into Hogsmeade station, one did.

Malfoy stepped past the place where I was sitting to lead his back against the door of the compartment. He grinned down at me. "Ready for it, Ollivander?"

I stood, brushing imaginary dust off my robes. "I was born ready, Malfoy." Nothing like a challenge to raise my spirits. I leaned forward so that my hands were placed on either side of the doorway, trapping the death eater against the door. "If you fuck with me, you will wake up in a bed soaked in kerosene and on fire."

With eyes wide, Malfoy turned out of the door and stepped onto the platform before the train had reached a halt. I didn't see him again all night. Was I afraid of him? Not in the least, but others were and I was going to do everything in my power to make sure he never hurt anyone ever again.

Neville and I sat with the first years after the sorting, and Ginny joined us after a fashion. The hat gave it's usual song, unusual considering the current political environment. Snape stood, and the whole hall fell silent. I felt tension all around me as the Gryffindors poured out quiet loathing and disgust towards the Headmaster. His speech was short, thank Merlin. I don't know for how long I could have listened to him. Snape welcomed the first years and returning students, introduced two new professors, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, who would be teaching defence and muggle studies respectively. He bade the students good night, and he was not applauded, not even by the Slytherins. Neville and I lead the first years to their dormitories, but before I left I made sure to look back at Snape, and throw silent curses towards him. My wand felt warm in my pocket.

There were only 3 first year Gryffindor girls this year. So many parents couldn't allow their children to go to school this year. I couldn't blame them. I tucked each and every one into bed, and gave them the express permission to come to me if they needed anything, and encouraged them to look out for each other.

Ginny was waiting for me in the common room when I left. She reached out for me and I fell into her arms. My eyes welled up with tears, and when she shushed me I couldn't stop from sobbing. "I don't know what I'm doing, Gin."

"None of us do." she rubbed my back and held me tight.

It was a long time before I pulled back. My nose was dribbling, and my eyes were streaming, but I didn't feel self conscious, not in front of her. We had never been close but there was something in the way Ginny would look at you. There was strength in her, and I could feel it flow into me.

"There is an extra bed in our dorm, you know, Malfoy becomes too much."

I chucked, and I noticed that Neville was there too. "I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of thinking he scared me away and got an entire dormitory to himself." I reached out for a hug from Neville. He had gotten taller over the summer, and I not so subtly wiped my face on his robes.

"Do you want me to walk you to your dormitory?" he asked quietly.

"No. It should be quiet tonight. Everyone is tired from the journey. I'll see you all at breakfast."

It was a short walk from Gryffindor tower to the heads' dormitories when the staircases were behaving. I braced myself outside the entrance, and whispered the pass word, "twenty-eight." It was an obvious reference to the sacred twenty-eight pure-blooded families, and an ironic choice coming from our half-blooded but pure-blood supremacist headmaster. The door swung open.

The common room was beautiful, decorated with plush sofas in neutral tones, and vibrant tapestries covered stone walls. I could see the lake from the pained glass windows. that stretched up almost to the high vaulted ceiling. It was also empty. There were two envelopes on the a heavy oval table behind the sofa. In a heavy black scrawl Freya Ollivander was written on one, and Draco Malfoy on the other. I opened mine and fished out a heavy key, the key to my dormitory room. Malfoy hadn't picked up his key yet, so he must not have come here yet. 'What could he be up to?'

It was late and I was tired, otherwise I might have spied on him. I took my key and headed up the staircase to the room labeled Head Girl. It was decorated in Gryffindor colours, and the bed was big and soft. These were the only observations I had time to make before falling asleep fully dressed on top of the covers.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 3. Hypocrite lecture! - mon semblable, - mon frére!

"What are you going to take, Luna?" Ginny mumbled as the lovely blond girl sat next to her with her class sheet.

"Charms, transfiguration, herbology, care of magical creatures, and defence. You?"

"I'm not sure. Frey says we probably shouldn't take defence."

Neville was tucking into some sausages, but for me the day held nothing but anxiety, and I couldn't imagine eating at the moment. "The Carrow's are death eaters. Defence against the dark arts is probably going to be more like 'the dark arts'."

"And did you see the bloke?" Neville said through a mouthful. "He looks down right evil."

"And don't forget," I said following Neville's argument, "muggle studies is mandatory for all levels, so we will all be getting enough Carrow as it is."

"What are you taking, Frey?" Luna asked dreamily.

"Transfiguration, charms, history of magic, ancient runes, defence, and arithmancy."

"Merlin, thats a lot," Neville said, and "You're taking defence?" Ginny exclaimed at once.

I took a piece of toast and nibbled on it as an excuse not to respond. "Do as I say, not as I do," I mumbled.

"The hypocrites defence." Ginny said, scowling.

Neville sat up straighter. "I'm taking defence, too. It's such a waste to drop a NEWT after one year."

"Sod you two. I'm taking it." Ginny finished her class list.

I stood. "I'll take those to McGonagall for you." I took all four of our sheets, and a few more thrust towards me by Seamus, Parvarti, and Lavender. As McGonagall checked off each list and filled in our schedules, I surveyed the great hall. The Gryffindor table was looking particularly thin, most of the students congregating together near the front. So many students couldn't return this year, and it was showing. I saw someone else approaching the staff table in my periphery, someone tall and blond.

"Sleep well, Malfoy?"

He aimed a stiff nod my way, and held out a sheet of paper.

"Is it poisoned?" I asked.

"It's the prefect schedule. Look over it and share it with the others, will you?" He leaned close, slipping the paper in my robes and whispering in my ear. "I could have poisoned you five times before breakfast."

His eyes were cold, laughing blackly. 'If he wants to play games, the I'll play games.' But then I remembered the mead. The oak matured mead that Malfoy told Madam Rosmerta to give to Dumbledore under the imperious curse, that she gave to Slughorn to give to Dumbledore, that Slughorn gave to Ron and Harry instead, that was poisoned. Harry only just saved Ron with a bezoar. Maybe he wasn't playing games.

McGonagall called me back from my thoughts and returned the student schedules to me.

"Do you think Malfoy would try to kill me?"

She didn't even raise her head from her breakfast. "Have you done anything to encourage him?"

"I told him I was going to set him on fire."

McGonagall frowned at me. "I think he will not. He was ordered by He Who Must Not Be Named to kill Professor Dumbledore and he didn't when it came down to it. However, I sometimes think you might deserve it."

She waved me away, and I left her with a ringing in my ears and a stack of schedules in my hands. I passed them out to my friends.

"Defence right off the bat on Monday. I don't know if it is going to be a blessing or a curse, but at least the plaster is being ripped off." Neville stood to leave and I joined him.

The DADA classroom was on the third floor, and could be down right charming on a sunny day, but this wasn't a sunny day. When Neville and I sat at the back of the classroom, one of the first to arrive for seventh year NEWT class, there was an eerie weight in the air, hanging much like the dragon skeleton that hung from the ceiling. There were students from all houses trickling in, including Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, Pansy Parkinson, Hannah Abbot, and Ernie Macmillan. Seamus, Pavarti, and Lavender came to sit by Neville and me. Just before the start of class, the dark and handsome Blaise Zabini waltzed in followed closely by Malfoy. I made a face and Neville smirked.

The teachers office door burst open and Amycus Carrow burst in, wearing all black and a flowing dark cloak like he was the grim reaper, but scrawnier. He whacked a chalkboard in the front of the room, on which a chart was drawn.

"Students will sit in their assigned seats every class. Not sitting in your assigned seat will result in points being taken. If a student continually refuses to sit in their assigned seat, a more serious punishment will be enforced."

The whole class groaned and we shuffled to our seats, each of us squinting at the board in turn and muttering to each other.

"This desk here is marked number 1 on the board, and this one here is number 12," Carrow shouted at us as we fumbled to find our seats.

I collapsed into one in the middle of the front row, squashed between Zabini and Parkinson. Seating charts were for first years who couldn't stop talking to their friends. The intentionality of this arrangement was supreme. I glanced behind myself and sure enough, no Slytherin was sitting next to another Slytherin, but none of the Gryffindor were sitting next to another Gryffindor. We were spaced out so we would have to face this alone.

I had been right about the nature of DADA this year. Carrow had no interest in preparing us to defend ourselves against the rising tides of dark magic. No, he wanted to prepare the seventh years for their place in the new world order as death eaters. Carrow outlined a course that included sections on curse identification, casting curses, the unforgivable curses, cursed objects, potions and poisons, controlling dark magical creatures, and even how to create an inferius. I was gripping the edge of my desk and feeling sick. How were we to protect ourselves, let alone others, against students who were being taught this caliber of dark magic. I thought about Malfoy, and the danger he would pose once he learned all this, but then I thought again about what McGonagall had said to me. Perhaps he didn't have the stomach for murder and the dark arts.

Next to me, Zabini was doodling. I watched the enchanted animated figure of Amycus Carrow waving around a little knife before accidentally stabbing himself in the foot. I smiled, and actually looked and Zabini for the first time. It was good magic, a clever drawing, and he was ever so pretty.

Amycus slammed his hands on my desk, his face inches away from mine. "Am I distracting you, Ms. Ollivander?"

I was too startled to speak, and frankly terrified of this power-tripping death eater to think of a witty retort. I shook my head.

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

I felt so many eyes on me, and it was all I could do not to sink into my chair. The other reason I didn't want to be head girl was because the position of authority would doubtlessly make me a target for any Voldemort supporters.

Carrow began lecturing again, but beside me, Zabini was folding his drawing into a flower. When he was finished, he gently set it on my desk. I didn't dare look at him again; Carrow would just love to have an excuse to really make an example of me. Why? Why would Zabini want to give me a flower, and act of solidarity. I spent the rest of the class contemplating the reasons and implications of that action. When class was dismissed, I tried to slip the flower back into Zabini's bag, deciding that whatever the flower symbolised, what ever he was offering, I didn't want it, but he batted my hand away. Just for a second I caught his eye. There was none of the malice or contempt that I was used to from the Slytherins, but neither was there softness. So I slipped the flower into my robes.

After lunch and after arithmancy, I found myself on the seventh floor pacing in front of a really hideous tapestry. After only a minute, a door appeared where one had not been before, and I thanked the castle for being there for me a moments of great need. The room I entered was cosy and warm, like the Gryffindor common room, but smaller. There was only one love seat in front of a crackling fire. I took the flower from my robes and examined it.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 4. Appeasing long forgotten wars

The sun was setting before I emerged from the room of requirement, and I was still unsure about how to proceed. I had folded and unfolded the flower so many times that the paper was frail and soft, but Amycus Carrow still flailed on the page. I wandered the castle for a while before retuning to my dormitory, hoping to get some sleep so I could wake up early and knock out my arithmancy homework. Upon entering the heads' common room, I was surprised to see all the prefects sitting around the oval meeting table, including Neville and Malfoy.

"Glad to see that you could finally make it," said Harper, smirking to show his crooked teeth. I hadn't realised he was made prefect, and the thought of it made my lips curl.

I dropped my book bag and cloak off on the hall tree. "I wasn't informed that there was a meeting tonight."

"Yes you were," Malfoy said, looking me dead in the eyes. "It was on the schedule I gave you."

"O yes, the poisoned schedule." I took the only empty seat, across from Malfoy and next to Neville.

The latter whispered in my ear, "I tried to remind you after DADA, but you sort of ran out of class. I'm sorry."

I patted his thigh. I didn't even look at the schedule. I gave it to Neville to share with the others. This kind of sloppiness wasn't going to help me in the long run, and right now I was just angry and embarrassed. I took some paper and began making notes, waving condescendingly at Malfoy to continue the meeting.

The meeting was nearly over, but the prefects were discussing rounds times, fighting over who would have to do evening rounds on Friday and such. I quickly gained control of the conversation, recording everyones wishes, requests, and organising a schedule that would suit everyone. It did require me taking the Friday evening rounds, but such is the price of leadership. Within ten minutes the meeting was finished, and even Harper was looking at me with admiration.

"You actually make a good head girl," Neville said, punching me on the arm. "You ruled that meeting with an iron fist."

I smiled at him and hugged him as he left, promising to hang out with Ginny and him tomorrow evening. When the door shut behind him, I realised that I was alone with Malfoy. He was pushing chairs in and tiding up the table. I took a deep breath and approached him.

"Why didn't you tell me there was a meeting tonight?"

He glared at me, but continued to organise papers. "I did. It was on the schedule I gave you. It isn't my fault you didn't read it." A hateful smirk grew on his face.

"You wanted me to miss this meeting," I hissed. "You wanted me to look bad in front of the prefects. You're trying to undermine my authority, but it won't work."

Malfoy filed away the papers, then circled the table to face me. "Look at you? It's your first day on the job and you're already shit scared, completely paranoid that I am after your already pathetic reputation, and you've threatened my life. I don't think this is a good start to the year for you."

"I don't care what you think? You're a death eater. You're an accomplice in the murder of Albus Dumbledore. All you are is a pawn in a game."

His face contorted into one I had never seen before. Arrogant Malfoy was gone, replaced by a mask of rage and fear. "I am no one's pawn," He whispered, before stalking off the spiral staircase that lead to his room. "Don't be late again!" he shouted to me before slamming his door.

I picked up my bag from the hall tree and slouching into the sofa with a particular self-righteous anger. It was easy to push his buttons, and it felt good to make him angry.

The next morning, I woke up early to get a head start on some work, and ended up with enough time to take a long hot shower before breakfast. As I was getting out, wrapping my body in a plush red towel, I looked at myself in the foggy mirror. My dark hair was waving over my shoulders, and I pulled at the skin around my eyes. They were amber in colour, and were the one feature of my appearance about which I was vain. Uncle Ollivander had described them as hypnotic once, and I liked to pretend that I could cast spells and hexes just by imagining what I wanted to happen. Malfoy pounded on the door that lead to his room. I waited for a minute to see if he would quit, but he grew more insistent. I unlocked the door, and it just about burst open. He was wearing a long sleeved black shirt and green pajama trousers. His hair stuck up at the back and his eyes were red rimmed.

"Do you mind?" he said in his classic drawl. "You're not the only one with classes to attend."

"Not at all," I said, toothbrush in mouth, waving him inside.

He glowered at me and began washing his pasty face. "I don't get what Blaise sees in you."

I spit out my toothpaste. "Zabini said something about me?"

"It's pathetic, really. He is so bored he will fixate on inconsequential details like yourself."

"Zabini said something about me." I smiled at myself in the mirror. Malfoy turned to the toilet, then glared at me.

"Get out."

I grimaced at him and gave him his privacy.

Muggle studies with Alecto Carrow was as despicable as DADA, and again there were assigned seats. I was in the back this time between Goyle and a girl from Ravenclaw, with Malfoy and Zabini in front of me. I had a hard time keeping my eyes off the darker boy. Between the boy I despised and the boy who made me so curious, I struggled to concentrate on anything else, and I wanted something else anything else to focus on.

I cuddled with Ginny in the Gryffindor common room later.

"George said to tell you he is sorry about Malfoy, and that he is sending you something to make your burden lighter."

I chuckled, my head in Ginny's lap. "Do I want to know what it is?"

"Probably not, but he didn't tell me, so I'm no help."

I had always admired the Weasley twins, and was one of the few outside of their family that could easily tell them apart. Late in fourth year George and I began dating, and only broke up when he and Fred decided it was time they moved on to bigger and better things beyond their education. We were still good friends, as I had learned so much from him and he was ever so handy when it came to plotting vengeance.

I sighed and sat up. "I should talk to George more."

"I agree. He is going to be a lot of help in getting the DA organised since we don't have Harry, Hermione, or Ron."

"The DA?"

"Yeah. You were totally right about defence this year. It's a total bust, and more than ever we need to be learning to defend ourselves."

"Who is going to teach?"

"Me."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "You?" Ginny is an excellent witch, but she's no Harry Potter.

"Me, you, Neville, Luna. Everyone. We're going to teach each other."

"It's not going to be enough."

"No, but it's something." She put her hand on my shoulder. "Why are you so hopeless? You know we are going to win. There is no other option."

The fire in the hearth crackled and leaped upward hypnotically. It whispered to me 'tell her the truth'. I shook my head and once again, I chose not to think. The easy way is often times the best. "You're right." I smiled at Ginny, watching the glow of the fire bounce off her hair and eyes. "So, we should get in touch with Fred and George, see if they have any thoughts. And maybe some members of the order?"

"In code, of course."

The news about the reformation of the DA had already began to disperse when I was once again entering the DADA classroom. I had been confirming the rumour with Seamus before situating myself between Parkinson and Zabini.

Carrow lectured us for the whole of the class time on severe hexes and minor curses, many of which I already knew, but it wasn't comforting to know that now others knew them too. He conveniently didn't mention anything about counter curses.

"For class next Monday, I want you all to work with your partner on a report on a minor curse. 20 inches. Your partner is the person you are sitting next to."

I rolled my eyes at the ambiguity, and turned first to Parkinson. She looked back at me, muddy brown eyes filled with disgust. I stuck my tongue out at her, and turned to Zabini.

"Shall we?"

He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes, and pursed his lips almost into a smile.

"Do you think Carrow wants us to curse each other to gain personal experience for this report?"

"I'm sure he would find that sort of initiative admirable, and I'd be happy to curse you."

I grinned at him. "You're such a good friend to me, Zabini."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 5. Each in his prison

"Seriously, Frey, I don't care. Just pick one."

We were sitting in the library after class, discussing the possibilities that Carrow would give poor marks on a report about a spell that isn't registered. I blushed a little, embarrassed that Zabini already felt comfortable enough with me to use my given name. He was making himself comfortable, hands behind his head, his features achieving an almost serene look. He was leaning too far back in his chair and I sent a casual non-verbal spell to keep him from falling backwards.

"Let's do Sectumsempra then. At the very least he will be intrigued."

"How did you learn about that curse?" Zabini watched me as I jotted down notes for research and handed him some instructions.

"I really got to know Harry and his friends during fifth year, and I was around when the drama with that curse went down. I thought it could be useful so I kept it stored away."

Zabini frowned. "Oh yes, the 'drama with that curse.' You mean Potter just about killing Draco."

"He didn't know what it did. It wasn't his fault."

"Oh please. He shouldn't have been using a spell he didn't know, especially one that wasn't registered."

The topic of conversation was hitting a soft spot, so defensiveness and anger took over my control. "Why did you give me that flower, Zabini."

He shrugged, still balancing on two legs of his chair. "I dunno. Why do you think I did it."

"I think you were expressing solidarity." My gaze was hard. I wanted to know what he was thinking.

"You know not all Slytherins are Voldemort loving bastards."

I let his chair go, and he fell straight backwards. He caught himself against the bookshelf, but a shower of books came down on him. His chair clattered to the ground and Madam Pince appeared from around the corner to shush the dark boy.

"Was that you?" he asked in a horse whisper.

"More or less. The cognitive dissonance became overwhelming."

He put his chair up and sat close to me. "Okay, let's get one thing straight here. Voldemort has issues with more groups than just muggles and muggle borns. He doesn't care about black people. He would be glad to see a future full of mocha pure bloods. But I've heard straight from Draco that Voldemort hates the gays."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Reproduction. Homosexuality doesn't serve eugenics. If I can avoid marrying a lady and pumping babies into her just to stay alive, I will. This doesn't mean I'm going to be a hero or anything, but I don't see the point in supporting someone who is going to ruin my life."

I leaned closer to him. "I didn't know you were gay."

"Yeah? I'm not surprised. You don't look beyond yourself much. You're just like all the Gryffindors; all you see is house."

"Well thats just because I've never had a kind word from any Slytherin. How can you expect me to see good where none shows itself."

Zabini produced a paper flower with his wand just like the one he gave me two days earlier. He handed it to me, giving me the most dazzling look. I felt myself being drawn into him. "It's self-righteous behaviours like that that keep us from liking you lot."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Are you out?"

"No, not really. I mean, if this whole war doesn't turn out the way we want, I don't want You-Know-Who to, you know."

"But you just casually outed yourself to me, so I can't be the first."

"No, Draco was the first."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "You told Malfoy, the Death Eater?"

"No, actually," he said, bobbing his head from side to side sassily, "he sort of figured it out for himself, then asked me. We weren't always pals but the bloke's been there for me when no one else was, and I'll always be there for him."

"Are you kidding me‽"

Madam Pince shushed me frantically.

"He works for You-Know-Who. He is evil."

Zabini leaned in and looked mean, like a father approaching someone who hurt his child. "He is not evil, and it's so much more complicated than that."

I wanted to shake Zabini. He is too nice to be completely taken in by a monster. Then it hit me. "Oh."

Zabini was packing up his things. "What?"

I shook my head. "Nothing," I said. He was in love with Malfoy. It was so obvious. "Can I walk with you?"

Zabini shrugged, and I took his elbow, striding arm in arm with him out of the library.

"There is something that I still don't understand. You've never liked muggle-borns and blood traitors. Why be sympathetic to the cause now."

Zabini's mouth twitched up on the side. "I'm not so much sympathetic as desperate. Look, you can agree that we are all a product of our upbringing, correct? That is just as true for me as anyone. It's no excuse, but change is hard." He stopped walking to lean against a wall. His face grew dark and serious. "Everything is changing now, isn't it."

I rubbed my shoulders, feeling the weight of that change acutely. "Yes it is."

It rained hard all day on Thursday, and I felt like I was watching the world from the bottom of a well. After an hours lecture on the evils of muggle borns, I was ready to lie down. Zabini winked at me as we left class, and I nearly went to him, but I heard something unexpected.

There was crying, like Moaning Myrtle but softer. I followed the noise down the corridor to a girls bathroom, where I found two first years huddled around a sink. Tears ran down their faces as they ran their hands under cold water, hands on which the words 'I will not talk in class' had been carved. I took towels to wrap their hands and lead them back to Gryffindor tower, saying very little and feeling even less. Ginny was stunned, but through her inaction I found my purpose. She sat with them, and I collected essence of dittany from my room. They screamed when I applied it to their hands, and my heart felt squeezed.

"I don't understand," Ginny said, stroking the hair of one that was falling asleep with her head on the ginger's shoulder. Neville sat in an overstuffed armchair with his head in his hands.

"It must have been inspired by Umbridge's punishments in fifth year, but instead of using magic quills to deliver the markings, Amycus Carrow petrified them so they couldn't move, then carved it in himself with a knife." A wave of nausea rolled over me and I felt myself sway. "The wounds don't heal instantly, thus the message is more permanent."

One of the girls gasped and sobbed, "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to talk."

Ginny shushed her. Something cold began to sink into my heart, filling me to the brim.

"Ginny, will you put them to bed? Maybe they can sleep in your room."

She nodded.

"There is something I need to take care of."

Minutes later I was pounding on Amycus Carrow's office door. I had no memory of the walk there, just blind rage filling my thoughts with screaming retorts to any explanation he may have for cutting on two first years for talking in class. Logic did find its way in, of course. 'Go to McGonagall,' it said, or 'what good will come of this?' I didn't listen. I wanted someone to shout at.

When Carrow answered his door, he looked furious, face twisted in disgust. "What do you want?"

I pushed my way into his office. "What right, what place do you think you have cutting little girls, you absolute swine!"

"How dare you," he spat at me. "How I teach my students is none of your business."

"You're not a teacher. You're a bully. And it is pathetic and cowardly that…"

He pulled his wand from under his cloak so quickly that it became a blur, and the word was out of his mouth before I could blink.

"Crucio!"

The whole world stopped as every nerve in my body exploded. I felt myself being set on fire, torn, mutilated, abolished, and through all the pain I was some how still in tact enough to scream. It was a scream that came from my old brain, one that had only been used by my ancestors long ago when being devoured, and it was a sound that I could not forget. A whole life time passed in which I writhed on the floor, feeling it press into me an amplification of total agony.

It ended suddenly, and with a surprising lack of relief. The pain was gone, replaced not with ease or goodness, but with emptiness.

Carrow was speaking to me, but I couldn't hear him. He threw me from his office, and I landed on my hands and knees. Slowly I rose to my feet and walked home.

In the head's common room, I sat with my knees to my chest staring into the hearth. Flames licked the stones and reminded me of the way it felt for the curse to ravage my body, except the flames seemed gentler. I was gripping my robes hard to keep my hands from shaking. Moving or even thinking of moving seemed impossible. 'Shock, it's just shock,' my brain said, but part of me was certain I was broken.

It was much later when the door opened and Malfoy entered. I couldn't look at him, but I saw his pale figure in my periphery. He walked right by without a word before stopping at the base of the stairs.

"What's wrong with you?"

I blinked.

"Oi? I'm talking to you."

I turned my head just a little to look at Malfoy. He looked haggard and annoyed. I tried to say something but no words would come. He approached me, and I felt the emptiness begining to swallow me again.

"You've been cursed, haven't you?"

I nodded once.

"Huh," he scoffed. "Welcome to my world." He climbed the stairs to his room and slammed the door.

'Oh yeah, Zabini? Malfoy isn't such a bad guy? Well Bloody Merlin and his aunt's saggy nut sack.'

But then the door opened again, and Malfoy came back down the stairs. He threw something at me that hit me in the lap. I picked it up automatically, studying the foil packaging in the firelight.

"What is it?" My voice was quiet and dull.

"Chocolate."

"What?" I looked up at Malfoy, who was staring down at me, eyebrows raised condescendingly.

"Cho-co-late. You eat it."

I tipped my head at his mockery, but none of the usual retorts entered my head. "Why?"

"Because it helps." Malfoy almost seemed to waver, before sitting down on coffee table in front of me.

I opened the foil, taking a bite of the chocolate within. I let it melt in my mouth, and the stillness seemed to melt with it. It was like coming alive again. I blinked away the cobwebs of shock to see Malfoy looking at me with curiosity.

"Who cursed you?"

"Who do you think cursed me?"

His eyes rolled. "There is a long list of people you've pissed off. I'd be easier to answer the question of who I don't think would curse you."

"Amycus."

Malfoy nodded. "Was it unprovoked?"

"I called him swine."

His lips pinched a little. "If memory serves, you like that particular description of his kind."

I grinned a little as the effect of the chocolate spread through my body and I again enjoyed the memory of calling Crabbe's father a pig. Then reality returned. I looked Malfoy right in the eyes, and for the first time I saw depth and openness in them.

"He was carving words into the hands of first years with a knife."

His eyebrows pushed together and he groaned, looking at his feet. He stood, heading for the stairs again. "Don't eat all that chocolate. I have a feeling you will need it again."

The door closed and the common room was silent again except for the crackling of the fire.

"Weird," I spoke aloud to myself.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 6. A heap of broken images

Friday's classes came and went with only a sinking feeling in my gut. It was only Friday, only the first week of the disaster of a year that was to come, and I had barely made it out alive. This was only the prequel, just a taste of what was to come, like running a marathon and being near death after only one kilometre. Except, if this year were a marathon, there would death eaters chasing me, no stopping allowed.

I sat with Neville at the Gryffindor table for an early supper, listening to some of his ramblings about tentacula venom and it's uses. I let my mind wander to the events of last night, unwillingly reliving the horror of the cruciatus curse.

"Frey? What do you think?"

I blinked and shrugged. "I dunno, Neville. I guess if the venomous tentacula is so useful then maybe the regulations should be lightened."

"I was talking about the DA."

"I'm sorry," I sighed.

"What's wrong? You've been so quiet today."

I thought for a second about confiding in my friend, but then I remembered his parents. He had more important worries, and I would be fine.

"Nothing. It's just been a long week."

"It really has. Is Malfoy giving you trouble?"

"Not really. I don't have to see him beyond regular prefect meetings. Sometimes he walks through the common room and insults me."

"And I bet you insult him right back."

"I wouldn't be able to stop myself if wanted to."

Neville smiled and finished the shepherds pie he was eating. "As I was saying earlier, we are going to get together to talk about the DA tonight. You in?"

"Who is 'we'?"

"Ginny, Luna, and me."

"I guess we are the the leaders now, aren't we?"

Neville nodded.

"Okay. I'll be there after I do my rounds."

I felt quite alone in the castle as I did my rounds. Most students were in their common rooms relaxing or in the library studying up for the next week. I saw a couple of first years from Ravenclaw leaving the library for their common room, so I escorted them, worried that they would meet a similar fate as the Gryffindor first years if they ran into the wrong professor prowling the halls. I passed a bulletin board on my way back where a poster declared that the headmaster was taking volunteers for an enforcement unit of students. They would be investigating student organisations for dissent, and would have the power to deliver punishments. I tore the paper off the board, stuffing it in my bag. It was like having several Deloris Umbridges running the school, except they didn't bother with the sugar coating.

I completed my rounds early, and stood in front of the great hall, watching dim candles bob in the air. I didn't want to talk about the DA, and I didn't want to sit in front of my friends and tell them that everything was alright, that we could fight and win this war by ourselves when that wasn't the case. I made my choice and left towards the seventh floor, not Gryffindor tower. I shushed the Gryffindor within that called me a coward. There was only one thing that could relax my mind at the moment, and that was to use it.

I passed in front of the tapestry of ballet dancing trolls, and let my mind instruct the room. After a minute or so, a set of double doors appeared out of the stone. I entered a large and empty hall, furnished only in one near corner. There was a large area rug, a study table with a wooden backed chair, a leather armchair, and a large book case against the stone wall. I liked it here, I felt safe. I spent hundreds of hours in this room since fifth year, all for the same purpose. I removed my notebook of spells from my robes, and settled into the arm chair. After reviewing my notes and scribbling some new ones, I took The Secrets of the Darkest Art from the shelf, flipping through until I found an entry on the cruciatus curse. I made more notes, and the time stretched. I was practicing a variant of the spell in the middle of the hall when the door opened with a loud whine.

I turned to see Draco Malfoy stepping in, looking around at the space, and at me with awe.

"What are you doing here?" I squeaked.

He grimaced. "What are you doing here?"

I stomped towards him, wand out, and I watched his hand go into his robes. "I have as much right to be here as anyone. Now get out." I held the door open for him, waving him out, but he side stepped further into the room.

"Allow me to rephrase: What are you doing in here?"

I was unable to withhold a growl and his undying annoyance weighed on me. "It's none of your business. How did you get in here?"

He scoffed and took a seat at the table, propping his feet up. "You Gryffindors never learn anything. All I had to do was get remotely close to asking the room for the same thing you asked and it appeared. It's not my fault you didn't lock the door."

I slammed the door with a boom that reverberated through the hall. I stalked up to Malfoy and knocked his shoes off the table. "Get out."

He looked at me in contempt, his platinum hair falling into his eyes, making him look more sinister. "Your friends came looking for you."

My heart sank. I was hoping they would forget about inviting me when I didn't show up, and continue the meeting. I would have caught up with them later. "Is that so?"

Malfoy stood and looked down at me. He was tall, my eyes about at the level of his chin, but I remained unintimidated. "Why didn't you tell them that you were cursed?"

I shrugged. "Why would I tell them?"

He circled the table. "They are your friends. They support you, validate your feelings, comfort you."

"They have more important worries."

He picked up the book lying open on the table, his fingers tracing the gilded letters on the onyx cover. "What are you doing in here?" he whispered. He looked me in the eyes and there was fire there. He shut the book hard and dropped it on the table.

I held my want tighter in my hand. "It's none of your business."

He examined the bookshelf, fingering the titles on the spines of some of the books, occasionally turning to glare at me. "Are you practicing the Dark Arts?"

I rolled my eyes. "You would like that wouldn't you?"

He turned and rushed me, and I raised my wand on instinct, fear and memory of the cruciatus curse filling me. He stopped, and there was fear in his eyes too. "That would be ironic. A red blooded Gryffindor secretly into the dark arts, stealing away every night to practice becoming the next dark wizard. When were you planning to join him?"

I groaned, my head rolling back in frustration. "Now who is paranoid," I said, grinning. "I am not practicing the dark arts."

"Then what are you doing?" He batted my wand out of his face.

I stowed it in my pocket. "I'm practicing spell craft."

His eyes narrowed. "Isn't that dangerous?"

I packed up the books I had laid out, putting them back on the shelves, and put my notebook back in my robes. "Well, yes, but only if you don't know what your doing."

"And I suppose you know what you're doing." Malfoy slouched into the armchair, looking relaxed and unbothered.

"I'm starting to. Thats what all the books are for. I study the dark arts so I know how to avoid them. And this room is magically inert, so none of my spells react badly to the environment during testing."

"I want you to prove it," Malfoy said, studying his nails.

"Prove what?"

"That you're not using the dark arts."

I pulled the other chair out, sitting backwards on it. "How?"

"Show me one of your spells."

I scoffed. "Seriously, Malfoy, what is your deal? You want me to show you one of my spells to prove I'm not practicing the dark arts? That makes no sense! Those things aren't even mutually exclusive."

"So you are practicing the dark arts?"

"No!" I threw my arms up. "No, wait, what if I am? What would you do about it, give me a pat on the back?"

Malfoy sat forward. "I could stop you."

"Why? Maybe I'm on your side, or maybe I'm just trying to even the field. It seems fair."

He seemed to be thinking very hard. "Maybe I'm on your side," he murmured, and I wasn't even sure I heard him right. "I know you're not practicing the dark arts. You don't have the stomach for it," he said louder.

I scoffed.

"Just show me one of your spells."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Seriously, they're not even any good."

"Then I will be unimpressed and I'll be on my way."

I stood and walked to the door.

"Oi," he shouted. "Ollivander, you're not leaving? For Merlin sake, it's just a spell. It's not a big secret."

"We have to go outside the room for the spell to work!" I shouted at him, frustration brimming over. I wanted to slap him.

"Oh," he mouthed, then strode out of the room after me.

I stepped over to the tapestry, and thumbed through my notebook. There was one in particular that was almost complete, one that I thought could provide a poignant message. "I think this particular charm will have a lot of uses, especially with the healers. It makes the trace that all magic leaves visible."

I raised my wand to Malfoy's face, and he flinched. "Do it on yourself first, will you?"

I sighed, exercising extraordinary patience. I raised lowered my wand so it was vertical, with the tip at eye level. I took a deep breath, picturing in my mind what I wanted to happen. Simultaneously, I spoke the word "visi," and flicked my wand in front of my eyes from left to right. Colours exploded around me. The walls of the castle were glowing pale gold. The place where the door to the room of requirement just was was shining pink and green and red and blue. I looked at Malfoy. He had a bright yellow aura around him, and I looked down at myself to see my own skin glowing red.

"You ready?"

He nodded. I performed the same actions for him, and his eyes suddenly went wide. Colour bloomed over his eyes in a vail of golden light.

"What are you grinning at?" he said, and the smile fell from my face.

"I've never seen the spell used on someone else before. You look like you're wearing a blind fold."

"I know," he said, smirking and pointing at me. "I can see it too. How long does it last?"

"Only about a minute. That's why it's not finished. I want one that can turn on and off, one that won't fade." I looked up at Malfoy to find that he wasn't listening to me at all, but studying his left arm. There was a cloud of black around it, totally obscuring his arm from the elbow to his fingertips. I grimaced and stepped back from him.

The spell began to fade. Malfoy blinked, looking around the corridor before leaning against the tapestry and looking at me.

"Why didn't you tell your friends that you were cursed?"

His hair was in his eyes again, and this time he looked familiar, not sinister. I blew at my face instinctively, trying to blow imaginary bangs out of my eyes. "Would you have told anyone?"

"I suppose not, but you're a Gryffindor. You're supposed to tell your friends everything." He stepped closer. "But you don't fit the mould."

I stepped back. "You're not fooling me, death eater. You may be charming and pretty, but I know what you are." I stalked down the hall away from him.

"Merlin forgive me if I should forget it," he said behind me.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 7. Spectre in its own gloom

I sat on the floor of the Gryffindor common room sipping tea while Ginny explained her thoughts on the DA.

"So really, we just want to know what you Think about the list."

I nodded. "Like, who should be on it?"

Ginny was grinning and wearing a bright red jumper with her initials on it. She held a pillow in her lap and sat cross legged on the sofa. "Not really. I mean, everyone who was in the DA two years ago besides those who aren't here will be invited, and then word will spread. We want to know if you think the list should be cursed like last time."

I remembered how Hermione had placed a curse on the list of people signed up for the DA, so that if anyone betrayed the secret, they would have blemishes spelling out the word 'SNEAK'. I grinned to think about Marietta and her spots.

"Oh yeah, I think we should do it again."

"Neville doesn't think it was fair not to tell everyone about the curse."

I shrugged. "Eh, it may not have been fair, but we can let last time serve as an example. If anyone betrays us and gets cursed, they can't say they weren't warned."

Ginny grinned evilly. "I feel the same way. Do you know what charm Hermione use?"

I shrugged, opening my spell note book. "Not the exact one, but I can find one that can serve the same purpose."

"Great," she said, patting the pillow in her lap, then slides off her seat to the floor. "Now, lets talk about you."

I set my tea cup down and resettled myself. "Ginny, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."

"We went looking for you last night. We were worried, we are worried."

"Well, you don't have to be."

"Frey, we had to ask Malfoy where you were! You need to trust us."

Why not, I though. Why not trust them. Because where would it end. Where would the secrets end, and how much would I have to divulge. The web of secrets in which I lived stretched before me, and however much I wanted to tell Ginny what happened to me, I couldn't risk letting all the truth out.

"I do trust you guys. I'm sorry I wasn't there yesterday."

Ginny pursed her lips, like she had something to say, but I kept talking.

"I'll get the spell for the list as soon as I can, but I have a meeting with Zabini for a DADA assignment, and I want to get something to eat before that. Would you like to come with me?"

"No, I've already eaten," and I knew she had. I wanted to be alone, but I didn't want her to know I wanted to be alone.

I sat alone at the Gryffindor table, picking apart a sandwich when Zabini sat down next to me. "What's eating you?"

I shrugged. "This sandwich. I think it's ripe. You let food go too long and the meal becomes the muncher."

He took the bread from my plate, smelling it. He reconstructed my sandwich and took a bite before handing it back. "Taste fine to me," he said through a mouthful.

An owl screeched from above, and an ginger barn owl circled before landing on the table before me. He waddled up close, before placing a small parcel before me. I ticked the owl beneath the chin, and he flew off. I opened the parcel to find a bottle of Don't Touch My Stuff powder, a product of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes LTD. The instructions declared that all one had to do was tap the bottle with your wand, state the first and last name of the forbidden individual, then dust your possessions with the contents. If the forbidden should touch your possessions, they will be covered with hives and boils.

"Hmm, very Plagues of Egypt, George," I said to myself, before showing the bottle to Zabini. "It's always nice to have an ex-boyfriend who cares."

He turned it around in his hands. "Boil powder? What an expression of love and affection!"

I took it from him, stowing it in my bag.

"Are you planing on using it against my pale haired friend?"

"Only if he deserves it, I promise."

Zabini filled a plate with food while I ate my crisps. "What's up with you?"

I thew my crisps back onto my plate. "Am I am just that expressive, or did everyone become empaths over the summer and I didn't get the memo?"

"You're very expressive, and you're a Gryffindor sitting all alone. Something must be up."

"We both know I don't fit the Gryffindor mould."

Zabini grinned a pearly grin and I tried to ignore his smugness.

"Okay, what?"

"You've been talking to Draco."

I rolled my eyes. "Nope, not empathic, just insane."

"Don't fit the mould? That is something Draco says."

I turned so I was straddling the bench, facing Zabini. "He didn't coin the phrase 'fit the mould'. You're being ridiculous."

"No, no," he said, still grinning. "Yesterday, he used that exact phrase to describe you to me, in the context of being a Gryffindor. 'She doesn't fit the mould,' he told me, when I told him we were working together. Today, you use the exact same phrase, again describing yourself in the context of being a Gryffindor. Such nice coincidences don't exist, Ollivander."

"You're insane."

He chuckled deeply, and I couldn't help smiling a little. "What did you two talk about?"

"Nothing."

"If you don't tell me I will assume the worst."

"All of you, every last one of you Slytherins are so infuriating."

"That bad, eh?"

I punched his shoulder. "Really, it was nothing. I was cursed by Amycus Carrow, and Malfoy found out. He gave me some advice."

Zabini frowned. "I guess we can't expect any better from death eaters."

"Which is why I am staying far away from Malfoy. He's dangerous."

Zabini took my crisps and his sandwich, wrapping them up in a napkin. "Take a walk with me, will you?"

I followed him outside. The sun was peaking through a mostly cloudy sky, shining on the mountains and the black lake. "Don't you think we should start working on our assignment?"

"Oh please, you can finish it in an hour." He sat on a stone wall facing the lake, and I joined him.

"You think I'm going write our report?"

"I know you are. Anything I write won't be good enough for you."

I took my crisps from him. "I don't like the way you notice my behaviour."

"Why not?"

"It makes my private thoughts seem so public."

"Then why did you come outside with me." I didn't respond. "See, I think you do like it. Most really don't. If I share their behaviours with them, they avoid me from then on. I don't give most the pleasure of knowing my thoughts."

I scoffed. He grinned.

"But you followed me outside."

I waved a crisp at him. "Touché. What about Malfoy?"

"Yeah, he likes it too."

"I'm glad that is all we have in common."

Zabini laughed loud and long, and after growing pink, I bumped him with my shoulder. "Shut up, you bitch."

"I'm sorry. I've just never seen two people more alike than you and Draco. It's unreal. You're both emotionally repressed, angsty, assholes who are haunted by demons, who also always think they are the smartest person in the room."

"I don't think I'm the smartest person in the room."

"I've had to write a report with you. Love, you know you're the smartest person in the room."

I shrugged. "Well at least we agree on one thing." I looked at him and paused for dramatic effect. "Malfoy is an asshole."

"I don't have amnesia. I remember what he used to be like."

"What he is still like."

Zabini stuffed the now empty napkin into his robes, and took my hand, walking towards the lake. "I want to tell you a story."

"Okay." A breeze was spinning through the leaves and making them whistle, and long grass danced against my legs.

"I was investigated by the inquisitorial squad in our fifth year. I was sort of coming out, beginning to behave more like myself, and why shouldn't I? You-Know-Who wasn't back, and he never would be. I was interrogated by Professor Umbridge multiple times. Eventually, Draco was able to convince her that what I was being accused of wasn't true. That night he asked me to tell him the truth and I did. He was the first person I had ever told.

"I was so used to observing others and telling their stories I had no idea how hard it would be to tell my own story, and that once it was done, how much differently I would feel toward Draco." He smiled gently, looking off onto the lake. "I'd never had a friend like that before."

I squeezed his hand, and he smirked down at me. "Of course, he didn't do it out of selflessness at first. Like you, he liked when I would talk about him, comment on his behaviour, let him know when he was being a bloody hypocrite. I kept him honest. He started telling me things he wasn't telling others. He told me in our sixth year about becoming a Death Eater, and about the task You-Know-Who had assigned to him." He paused.

"Oh fuck, go on. Tell me the sob story of the Death Eater. It's not going to change my opinion on him."

"I don't think I need to tell you. You're a smart girl. You'll figure it out."

We both stared dreamily out onto the lake, watching the trees dance and the clouds race across the sky. "I hate you."

Blaise got an A on our assignment. I got a C. In muggle studies on Tuesday, all the seventh years were asked to meet in the court yard for a 'demonstration'. I walked with Neville there, and Blaise nodded to me pursed my lips back at him.

"Frey," he said curtly.

"Zabini," I said back. It felt incredibly disingenuous to be calling him Blaise in my head but Zabini to his face, but it would be easier to fake coldness than to explain my new found affection for the Slytherin to Neville who would surely notice. Besides, I was sure Blaise would get a kick out of the insincerity of it.

"For today's demonstration," called out Alecto Carrow in a corse voice, "you will not be using your wands. I would like you to divide into two groups based on blood status. Pure-blood on this side," she pointed to her right, "and half-blood on this side."

I patted Neville's arm as he crossed to the other side, and I stayed put with the half-bloods. With me were Seamus, Hannah, Lavender, a smattering of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and also Millicent Bulstrode, who looked very unhappy.

"Before you there are some sticks. I want you to use them to make a fire."

Indeed, there were a pile of sticks on the ground before us, dry as a bone, but with nothing to start the fire, they may as well have been made of stone. I rolled my eyes.

"I read about this in a book once," Seamus said, kneeling by our sticks. "We can use friction to create heat by rubbing the sticks together."

"Yeah, and it might help if you stick one up your arse." Millicent Bulstrode snorted.

The Ravenclaws began to pitch ideas off each other while the Hufflepuffs helped Seamus with his stick rubbing theory. Soon, without Millicent's help, we had a very handy system going, and our sticks began smoking.

I made the mistake of looking up to see that the pure-blood group's progress. They were sitting on stone benches, watching us flail while their fire blazed. I gawked.

"That is quite enough," Alecto called out, breaking my group's attention away from our work. "As you can see, there is a clear superiority in thought and magic from the pure-blooded witches and wizards. We cannot let our blood be tainted."

She droned on like this for the rest of the hour while we sat in drizzling rain. A downpour began, but she didn't let up. We protected our books from the water, but soon we were soaked through.

When dismissed, I wandered over to the pure-blood fire, which was still burning despite the rain. I examined their sticks, to find that they were not just sticks, but wands. A fire blazed hot in my chest, and I watched Alecto leaving. I wanted her to burn.

"Pathetic."

Malfoy was standing before me, soaked through and shivering.

"At least she could have made it a fair contest."

He was completely missing the point of the exercise, and completely missing the most sickening aspect it.

"Who's wands do you think those are?" I asked, pointing to the flames.

His face fell and I caught his gaze, realisation burning there.

"Besides, I'd kick your arse any day, ferret boy." I raised my hands to show that I was not using my wand, then focused on the space behind me. 'Incendio'. The sticks burst into flames. I waved goodbye, giggling at the surprise on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 8. And the fire and the rose are one

I had transfiguration after Muggle studies, and Blaise sat next to me with Malfoy on his other side. In silent moments, I could hear the steady drip of rain off our robes.

Mcgonagall was lecturing us on the mathematics behind the Gamp's Law, and I took notes, careful not to get my parchment wet from my sleeves. There was a tap on my shoulder; Lavender was leaning forward in her desk.

"Frey, you getting any of this?"

"All of it," I whispered back.

"You'll explain it to me later?"

"In exchange for chocolate."

She frowned and sat back.

There was another nudge from beside me this time. Blaise passed a note onto my desk.

Are you really understanding this? Can I copy your notes? -B

I quickly scratched a reply. Yes. This is all basic arithmancy. And yes, you can. -F

He turned over the scrap of parchment, writing on the back. Even Draco doesn't understand this. -B

I leaned forward so I could see Malfoy across Blaise. He was scribbling fiercely. I coughed and he looked up. I stuck my tongue out at him. His face twisted into one of disgust and frustration. I waggled my head at him mockingly.

Class ended and Lavender cornered me against my desk as Blaise was packing up.

"What are you doing passing notes with Slytherins?"

I stuttered. "I wasn't?"

"I saw you!" she said, hands on her hips. She reached behind me, taking the note before I could stop her.

I groaned. I wasn't ashamed to have Blaise as a friend. In fact I was quite proud to know him. He was useful and charming, and I liked the time we spent together. However, if it got out that I was now best mates with a Slytherin, things could become awkward between myself and my Gryffindor peers.

She opened it, then began to laugh. I took it back and read over the note again.

Can I copy your notes? - Z

No, you baboon. Take your own notes. - O

Whatever. I'll just get Draco's notes. He probably understands this better than you. - Z

The ferret doesn't know his arse from a transfigured bludger. - O

I chucked too.

"Alright. I guess I shouldn't have expected anything different from you," Lavender said, still chuckling, and patting me on the shoulder.

She left, and I was alone in the room with Blaise and Malfoy, the latter of which was lingering in the doorway and waiting for his darker friend.

"I liked this," I told Blaise, giving him a hug.

"I saw Brown looking at us passing the note. I thought it would be a good idea to change the words around."

"I really think you captured my voice."

Malfoy leaned in, snapping his fingers. "I'm freezing, Blaise. Let's go."

"Go on without me, you big annoying ferret."

Malfoy's gaze burned the both of us, but he waited, kicking the edge of the door.

"I'd better go. Shall I see you later?"

I smiled at him. "Sure, Blaise."

He sauntered out of the Transfiguration classroom, calling back to me when he was just out of sight. "You owe me!"

That evening, I was working on my spell for the DA list in the head's common room. I found spells like the one Hermione used, but none that had the spectacular results as hers. I would have to modify a tracking spell that would listen in to what everyone who signed the list was saying. Instead of just watching them, or alerting me to who had ratted on us, I would attach a hex to the spell that would make the traitor very uncomfortable.

Malfoy approached quietly from behind as I worked, and I stiffened, expecting a harsh word or snide comment.

"Did you make the quidditch team?"

He was leaning against the table, fiddling with a sheet of paper. "Yeah, I did." The trials were last Sunday, and I tried out for Beater as I had last year. Harry chose Peakes and Coote for the position, but this year Ritchie Coote didn't return. I liked Peakes, and we would be a good team, but I couldn't help feeling that I was replacing all the muggle-borns this year.

"You were doing pretty well out there. I'll have to stay out of your way during the next Slytherin/Gryffindor match."

I didn't like this congenial side to Malfoy. "What do you want?"

He rolled his eyes and handed me the sheet of paper he was holding. "Revised prefect schedules. Harper isn't getting along with the Hufflepuffs."

I took the sheet from him, reviewing it. "Real surprise there."

"Careful who you let see that, though. I've cursed it."

My heart jumped and I dropped the paper, standing suddenly. I looked at Malfoy in horror. An evil, laughing smirk grew on his face. "You're a real prick, you know that." I sat back down, stuffing the schedule into my robes.

"You set that one up for me. I couldn't help myself."

I took another slip of paper from my notebook and handed it to Malfoy. "By the way, look what Blaise said about you in Transfiguration."

He read the note, frowning. "This is your handwriting."

"Yes, but Blaise restructured the words."

He dropped the note on the table. "Since when have you and Blaise been such mates?"

"I dunno. He is sympathetic with my cause, and I guess we bonded over our proximity to a certain arse hole."

"I always thought of him as a good judge of character, but you've proved me wrong."

I glared up at him, disliking how close he was sitting to me. "You're lucky to have a friend like him. Right now, his trust in you is your only redeeming quality."

He smirked and stood up from his seat on the table. "One more thing, did you know that it is commonly believed that being able to perform wand-less magic is a sign of a dark witch or wizard?"

"Yes, I am aware of that, but so is speaking parseltongue. Dumbledore could do magic without a wand, and Harry speaks parseltongue, and neither of them were dark wizards."

"Not in the traditional sense." He left me alone with my thoughts, and I found it much harder to focus on my spell after that.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 9. Honour stains

The week dragged on as professors began piling on the work. I had two more reports and three papers due by the end of the week, and I wanted to get the charm for the DA list finished by then too. When Friday finally rolled around, all I wanted to do was lie on the floor and close my eyes.

So that is what I did. Luna, Ginny, and Neville were lounging in my common room, chatting about quidditch, herbology, and nargles, while I was sprawled on my back soaking up the heat from the fire.

I groaned. "Ahhhhh, you should try this. It feels good to groan."

Ginny joined me, then Luna and Neville. Soon all of us were lying on the floor producing a harrowing chorus of groans.

"So cathartic," Neville said, after we quieted down.

There was a knocking at the window. I got up to open it, to see a multi coloured owl standing on the window ledge. He held out a note, which I took, then he flew off into the night.

"Such a pretty bird," Luna said, head raised from her position on the floor.

The note was short and written in a looping hand.

I'm calling in the favour. Come to the Slytherin common room. The password is Focaccia.

I groaned again. I wasn't prepared for this.

"I have to go. Head business."

They started groaning again.

"Feel free to stay. I don't know where Malfoy is, but you're allowed to be here. Tell him to piss of if he says otherwise."

I stopped off in my room to change out of my uniform into something more comfortable and fitting: a tee-shirt and my infamous leather pants. If Blaise needed my help, then I should be prepared for the worst.

I was in the dungeons where it was dark and the air was cold before I realised I didn't know where the Slytherin common room was. I took Blaise's note from my pocket, lighting my wand to read it again, when I saw something strange on the back.

There was a map of the dungeons that wasn't there before. It glowed in the wand light, and at the bottom he had written: I knew you would get lost. I felt my face stretch into a grin.

I followed the map through the dark labyrinth, until I reached a dead end. Torches lighted on either side of a plain stone wall. I referred to the map again, and unless I had made a wrong turn, this should be the entrance. I'd heard that the common room entrance was concealed, much like the Gryffindor common room entrance was behind the portrait of the Fat Lady. I stepped up to the wall, knowing how silly I would look talking to a wall if anyone happened to see me, and spoke "Focaccia" with confidence. The stone wall opened from the middle, swinging out like double doors. What I saw inside astonished me.

It was a long dark hall with vaulted ceiling, packed with people, and all the furniture was pushed to the walls. Music burst from inside, and soft lights pulsed, lighting the room like tempered lightning. I stepped forward, and the doors shut by themselves behind me. I turned to the wall that was solid stone again, searching for the exit, horrified to find myself trapped in the snake den. A hand clutched my shoulder, and I drew my wand.

"Careful with that, Frey. I'm already going to be in trouble for brining you here."

"Blaise! What in Merlin is going on?"

He took my hand and lead me down a corridor. "We can't talk here." We went through a heavy wooden door and into an dormitory. He looked around to ensure we were alone. "So, what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?"

"The Fortnight. The first one of the year is always a lot of fun."

I crossed my arms and leaned against a four poster bed. "I think it's ridiculous. Why am I here? And why is it called a Fortnight? Oh, let me guess, because they happen every fortnight."

Blaise nodded. He looked good tonight, wearing a forest green dress shirt with a black vest. His trousers fit well, really well, and I think he was wearing eyeliner. "The password to the Slytherin common room changes ever two weeks on the Saturday. It's been a long standing tradition that Slytherins host a party on the Friday before the change, giving out the password to whomever they please. It's always a riot."

"I thought that a non-Slytherin hadn't entered the common room for seven centuries?"

"Eh, that's a myth. We let other houses in here all the time, every two weeks, in fact."

"Fantastic, Blaise," I said, letting sarcasm drip from my lips. "I'm so glad you've invited me to your snake party. I can't wait to get clubbed over the head by one of your Cro-Magnon housemates. How is this a favour, again?"

"You know Pansy Parkinson, right?"

"Of course. She was always hanging off Malfoy."

"Last year, Malfoy was busy and mopey because of his… er… task, and Pansy gave up on him. I got her to come to a lot of these parties with me. It is really good for my image to have ladies with me in public. I tried to convince her to continue to attend the Fortnights with me, but she complained that I wasn't putting out. Now more than ever I need to appear straight."

I nodded. "You need me to be your beard."

"Exactly."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you do. Walk out the door, but I'll be very disappointed, and I could get in a lot of trouble in the long run."

"This is more than making up for you covering for me the other day," I said, feeling squirmy.

"Then I'll owe you one."

"I don't like owing with you. It leads to strange places."

"So, will you do it?"

"Yes," I sighed. "But you'll have to promise to keep the death eaters away from me."

"No harm shall come to you, as my honoured guest." He stepped over to a bed and rummaged through the trunk at the foot of it. He emerged with a toilet bag and a pair of scissors. "But first, we need make some alterations."

"What are those for?" I slouched away from him.

He approached me wielding the scissors like a dagger. "That shirt is atrocious. I can't be seen with you wearing that."

I took his scissors from him. "I like this shirt!" It was an old red Gryffindor shirt of my father's, and the print had worn off. I hand embroidered the symbol for Ollivander's Wand Shop, and the name Ollivander across the bottom.

"Yes, I'm sure it's great, but unless you want to just take it off, I'm making changes." He held my sleeve and began to cut along the seam. I closed my eyes and allowed the violation of my clothes.

When he was finished, I had no sleeves, my midriff was bare, and there was a slit coming down the from of my shirt leaving my bra and breasts open to the world. I hunkered over. "I don't know, Blaise."

"Don't worry, your breasts are great!"

I rolled my eyes at him, grimacing.

"We're not finished yet." He pulled my hair out of its long braid, arranging it around my shoulders. He then took eyeliner from his bag, lining my lids and waterline, and put mascara on my lashes. He gave me a lipstick to put on.

"It's not my shade," examining the deep plumb.

"I know, it's mine. Now, go put it on." He slapped my ass as I walked over to the mirror. "I really like the pants, by the way. Are they real?"

"Yes. They are one of my most proud possessions."

When all was finished, Blaise measured me and found nothing wanting. Hand in hand, we walked out into the barrage of noise in the common room. He lead me right to a table where drinks were being served.

"What is it?" I called out over the wailing of a woman accompanied by electric guitar.

"Old Fashion with fire whisky. I thought I'd start you off with something sweet."

I took a sip and immediately loved it. I killed the drink, and made myself another strong one. "I'll need a lot of these if I'm going to do this."

Blaise laughed, and I giggled. We took our drinks to the other side of the dance floor, watching the students flailing in the middle. I was surprised to see so many students I knew. There were lots of Ravenclaw's, and even a few Hufflepuffs. I couldn't believe that for seven years I hadn't known about the fortnight parties when so many people were involved. I made a mental note to ask Luna if she knew anything about this.

Harper appeared out of the crowd, and I groaned. Ever since the first prefect meeting, I had the feeling that he was taking a liking to me. He convinced Malfoy to put him on the same rounds as me, and more often than not, he would say something to me if he ran into me in the library.

He ran up to me, leaning against the wall next to me, out of breath and smelling like sweat and liquor. "Hey Olli, I never thought I'd see you here!"

I gave him my most poisonous look. "I was invited. Go away."

"You should dance. You look great. Come dance with me."

Blaise leaned forward, smiling but getting too close to Harper. "She is with me, mate. She told you to go." Harper slouched off.

"I don't need your help," I muttered.

"I know," he said, holding me close, "but I didn't want to see poor Harper get slapped." He leaned down to talk into my ear. "I am going to need you to dance with me."

"Why? I thought you would destroy my shirt, I would get a drink for my troubles, then I would go home."

"We need to be seen together, so it's either dancing or snogging. I'd prefer to dance, but it is up to you."

I finished my drink, and left it on a bookshelf. "Let's do this."

A sweet song with a steady drum beat that I recognised came on, and Blaise took my hand, leading me onto the dance floor. We took an open spot, and he took both my hands. "You do know how to dance, don't you?"

He pushed my hands and we fell perfectly into step with the music, pulling my hand above my head and turning me twice. I grinned. It had been a long time since I had danced, and it felt so good.

"You do know what you're doing!"

He threw me into a spin and tugged me back to him in closed position. "I took muggle ballet classes as a child," I said quietly while rolling my hips. The dancing was hot, hard, and fast. Blaise was excellent, leading me into moves I couldn't even image. To onlookers it looked like we were making love right there on the dance floor, all while he left at least an inch between us at all times. I laughed, and he grinned, and we had a blast swirling, stepping, dipping, and twice tripping over our own feet. At the end of a song, he lifted me into the air, just like in Dirty Dancing.

"Blaise, this is incredible!" The whole world melted away and I forgot where I was. All I knew was that we were dancing like heroes and Blaise was my friend.

He was breathing hard, and grinning down at me. "I think everyone here is questioning my sexuality for me. Let's get more drinks."

We crossed to the drinks table, not bothering with cocktails this time. We took a shot of fire whisky, and the whole idea of a Slytherin party became more amenable to me. "I wish you had invited me to one of these sooner!" I hugged Blaise around the waist. "I promise, if You-Know-Who wins this war, I'll marry you and be your forever beard."

He ruffled my hair. "Marrying a half blood like you wouldn't do me much good, I think."

My cheeks grew hot and I looked away, swallowing hard against a feeling that was choking me.

"Hey! Look who's turned up."

From out of the crowd, Malfoy swaggered towards us, lips pursed into a smile.

"Babe," Blaise said, slapping Malfoy on the arm, "this girl can dance. She is a natural. I told you, didn't I? You can tell by her walk."

"You did tell me." His smirk grew and he leaned against the table. "How are you liking the Fortnight?"

I shrugged, throwing nonchalance out like a bucket of cold water. "It's a bunch of bullshit, really, not as good as I heard. The only thing tolerable about it is Blaise." I raised a fresh shot. "And the alcohol."

I handed the shot to Malfoy and he took it.

"Enough chit chat, let's dance." Blaise took me back out to the dance floor.

A slow song played a little while later, and we spun lazily. The vocalist sung about losing someone you love because of your own mistakes, a melancholy tune, and I felt it acutely. When I looked up at Blaise, the look on his face made me ache more.

"What's wrong?" I reached up to stroke his face, somber and tight with pain. He shook his head, stepping away from me.

"I need to sit this one out. Too much to drink." He left me where I was standing, wandering to the dormitory door. I watched him go, and I started to follow him, but there was a hand at my shoulder.

"Give him some time. It's best to leave him alone when he gets like this." Malfoy was standing beside me, sipping on an old fashioned.

I nodded, and wandered back to the party.

Soon, I was chatting with a Ravenclaw girl raving about how sexy Blaise's dancing was, and how great the sex is, and how I'm going to have his babies. She nodded along in amusement, and I knew she knew he was gay. In fact, I knew she knew I knew he was gay, but I loved that she was playing along with me. Her date called her back, and I kissed her on the cheek, promising her that she would be the godmother of my children. Someone dark approached me and I grinned at him, thinking Blaise had returned.

It wasn't Blaise. It was a white boy with dark hair, a crooked nose, and golden eyes. "Hey, Ollivander. Fancy seeing you here. I liked your dancing."

No, no. I was horrified to see this person approaching me. The reality of my predicament came rushing in. I was in the Slytherin common room, and it was full of drunk people who couldn't be counted on to remember what they saw. It was dark, it was loud. Blaise was gone.

Theodore Nott put his hand on my shoulder and I cringed. He was the son of a Death Eater, maybe even one himself, but I had other, more personal reasons to fear him. "Yeah. I liked my dancing too, Theodor." I re-adjusted my shirt as an excuse to remove his hand from my person, but that only seemed to draw his attention to my body.

"You came here with Zabini? That's interesting. I thought he was a queer, but here you are with him."

Get out your wand! All my bravery and impulsiveness drained out of me, the liquor making me sluggish and stupid. Make him leave you alone.

"But he isn't here, is he?" He stepped closer.

"He went to get more drinks. He'll be right back."

Nott grinned to show crooked teeth. "I don't think so."

"I need a wee!" I shouted. I turned on my heal and walked right away from Theodore Nott. I searched for faces in the crowd, anyone I knew, but not even Harper was there.

I stopped walking at the drink table, busying my hands with making a drink while I thought of ways to escape. He was probably following me right now. I could go to Blaise, or maybe I could just leave. I imagined myself drunk and stumbly trying to get out of the dungeons, then climb the stairs. If I didn't fall to my death, Nott would catch up with me.

Then kill the stupid git!

I looked up with drink in hand to see Malfoy giving me the most curious look. He approached and leaned over the table.

"What's wrong?"

"Nott is freaking me out."

He raised an eyebrow. "Nott is chicken shit."

It was hard for me to believe what I had just heard, and I wouldn't have if I hadn't seen his lips moving. I nodded, and turned to face Nott who was indeed only feet away. I tossed my fresh drink right into his face.

"Oh god! I'm so sorry. I tripped. I'm going to have to make a whole new drink for my baby daddy."

Nott was spluttering, and if he hadn't been so stunned, he might have killed me on the spot. I turned just in time to see Malfoy making a cut it out gesture. Nott stormed off, throwing a soaked cloak on the floor behind him in frustration.

"I liked that."

Malfoy smiled at me, handing me a fresh drink. "Why is that?"

"He terrifies me." I sipped gently, thinking that I had already had enough to drink.

"That's interesting."

"Why?"

"Because Nott is terrified of me, and I'm terrified of you."

"As you should be." I leaned against the wall beside Malfoy. The crowd was full as ever. He finished his drink and leaned across me to put his cup on the drinks table, and I could smell him for a moment. He smelled like pine trees in warm rain, like grass in the winter. I looked at him for the first time that evening. He wore a tight fitting black shirt with a blazer, the sleeves rolled up to show his writs, but not his fore arms. His hair was styled back so it wasn't falling into his face, but not slicked back like he used to wear it when he was younger. He had a somewhat stupid expression on his face, and I could tell he was on his way to drunk.

"Why aren't you dancing?"

"No one caught my fancy."

I pointed across the room. "There is Pansy Parkinson. You used to fancy her."

He rolled his eyes. "Please. That's ancient history. She's all over that 6th year, anyway."

"What about the rest of these lovely ladies?" I gestured to the room at large.

"I prefer dancing, not grinding." There was a long pause while he examined his nails and I stirred my drink with a straw. "You seem to be a pretty good dancer."

"Oh?" I wanted to hear him say it.

He looked me in the eyes as if he wanted the same. He gave in first. "Merlin. Will you dance with me?"

My brain was fuzzy with alcohol, the adrenalin from my encounter with Nott wearing off. I couldn't seem to comprehend the implications of what I was about to agree to. Nargles, I thought and grinned. "Sure. Why not?"

We walked out onto the dance floor together, and he took my hands, leading me into the song. It was quick, and he wasn't as good as Blaise, but it was still enjoyable. He stepped forward, pulling my hand behind his neck to rest on his shoulder. He held my waist and spun us around.

I watched him while we danced, but he looked right over my head. I had strong opinions about dancing etiquette, and looking at your partner is rule number one. It did, however, allow me to look at him unscrutinised. He looked older than I remembered, dark circles were prevalent under his eyes and his cheeks were thin.

He caught me looking at him and sneered. "Like what you see?"

I didn't look away. "You look like your father, Draco."

He missed a step, and we had to count to find the beat again. He was quiet for a while, and the sneer didn't return. "Draco?" he asked.

"Would you rather I call you Death Eater?"

He spun me away with particular force, before pulling me back into extra close closed position. His face was pinched in anger.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

We spun around again. His hand was pressed against the bare skin at the small of my back, pulling me close to him. We swayed methodically.

He seemed to be doing a lot of thinking. "You've never apologised to me before."

"There is a first time for everything." I grinned up at him.

"Don't smile at me, Frey. We're supposed to hate each other."

The song changed to something slower, more sensual, and my sober brain told me that was enough dancing for the night, but that wasn't the part of my brain in charge. He didn't seem to be making any moves to stop either.

And frankly, I liked the feeling of him against me. Dancing with Blaise had been fast and technical, and while this looked so much more innocent compared to that, something in my stomach was churning. My cheeks were flushed, and I hoped my hair shielded the blush from his view.

I rolled my body against him, getting closer than I would have been comfortable, and I enjoyed feeling him react to me. His leading became more seductive. I was dancing almost on top of him, and I felt challenged to make him uncomfortable first. We danced with our bodies flush, and the heat from him, from the liquor, from the dancing bodies all around made the world spin, or was that us spinning and the world staying still.

"Hold up, less spinning." I gripped his shoulder tight.

"Do you need to sit down?"

"No, just, slow down."

The song changed to something slow, and quiet. The whole room seemed to take a breath. One hand on his arm, the other in his hand against his chest, he held my waist gently again, and I really felt quite comfortable there. He rested his warm cheek against my temple, and we swayed together though the rest of the next song. When it ended I groaned.

"Still not well?"

"No, I'm fine." I stepped back from him. "I'm going to check on Blaise."

He nodded and followed me.

"What happened? You didn't explain earlier, but you seem to know what is going on."

His lips pursed. "He gets like this sometimes when he is drunk. He gets mopey, then finds a quiet place to be alone. He… doesn't like to talk to me when that happens."

It started making sense now. I entered the dormitory alone and found it empty except for one fourposter with the curtains drawn. I peeked behind the curtains to find a very gloomy Blaise looking back at me. I crawled into bed with him.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded, wiping his nose on a handkerchief.

I felt so strongly for him, and I knew I couldn't say anything in that moment to cheer him up, so I just lay there in the dark, holding his hand.

"Why doesn't he love me?" His voice was quiet but steady.

I said nothing but held his hand tighter. It was a long time later when I emerged. Draco was sitting on the floor, sipping on a bottle of fire whisky. We left the dormitory together. "What are you still doing here?"

"I want you to tell me something that is true."

I frowned, and leaned against a stone wall. Sobriety and scepticism were returning to me. "Why?"

"Because I think you're a liar."

"That is true. I am a liar."

He smirked at me, then followed me out of the common room.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 10. An illegible stone

When I woke the next morning, everything was fuzzy. The sun was streaming in from the window, and I hated it, pulling the covers over my eyes. I stayed under there until the feeling that I was breathing my own air became overwhelming. I lay in the light, angry with a pounding head for a while before I even began to remember what I did last night.

I groaned. I'd gone to the Slytherin common room and participated in an illicit party, gotten drunk, and made up stories about banging Blaise. At least that rumour was so far fetched that few of my acquaintances would believe it.

I was still wearing the t-shirt that Blaise ruined, but somehow I'd removed my pants. I rolled over, and got a whiff of something that wasn't whisky or sweat. It smelled like the forest. The rest of the night came back in a rush. Nott being scary, dancing, walking home with Draco. Draco? What in Merlin. No. I had laughed at his bad jokes, leaned on him while walking back to our dormitory. We sat and talked about Blaise, about our lives. I replayed the events in my head again and again, coming to the only possible conclusion. He fancies me.

No. Nope. I was not going to allow this to happen. I was going to be mean to him, cruel. He is a death eater and he doesn't deserve my kindness, my sympathy. Hell, he doesn't deserve the brain space that is required to make this choice. I rolled out of bed, falling right back onto it when my head throbbed painfully. I stumbled to the bathroom, and when the handle wouldn't move, I pounded on the door.

He opened the door. He opened the door when he was fresh from the shower, covered only by a towel wrapped around his waist, and I wasn't wearing pants. "Morning Frey," he drawled too loudly.

"For fucks sake." I went on in, taking a long drink of water from the tap. In the mirror I could see him looking leering at me. "If you don't stop looking at my arse, I'm going to curse your prick off."

He finished his routine quickly, leaving me alone.

I took the longest shower of my life, and I thought a lot about Draco. Meeting him in the bathroom this morning was horrific and disgusting, as it ought to have been. That wasn't the way I felt about last night. The memories were foggy, but I felt comfortable with him then, I felt safe. I even fancied him.

I didn't fancy him now. The alcohol made me flirty, and he responded as any man-slut. I was just lucky things didn't get seriously out of hand. As I turned the shower off and stepped out feeling fresh, I was resolved to move on, and make him regret he ever fancied me at all.

When I dressed and left my room, tea was laid out as it usually was in the mornings. I'd never seen the house elves bring it, and I don't know if it is usual for the head's to get tea brought to them every day. Perhaps he requested it, and that thought made me sick. Normally I don't partake, opting for coffee in the great hall, but warm smooth tea with milk sounded good at the moment. I poured myself a cup and sat by the hearth.

And it was a long time before I moved a muscle. I sat staring into the fire, thinking slowing, allowing my brain to recover while sipping tea. Blaise entered, hood over his head and hands deep in his robes. Passed right by me, climbing the staircase to Draco's room and knocking. The blond joined him in the common room, the darker boy still not seeing me. Draco gave me a cold look, then a sneer as he plucked something dark from the banister, tossing it to me. I caught it, still not registering what they was.

"I do love those pants, Ollivander."

I groaned, setting down my tea and lying on the sofa. I should just go back to bed and wake up when all of this had gone away. I took my pants off in the common room last night, probably in front of him.

"Frey, what are you doing here?" Blaise put his hand on my back, and I leaned forward with my face in my hands.

"I live here, Merlin help me."

Blaise sat down, taking my pants from me. "You had a good night, at least."

"Can we not talk about it," I snapped.

"Not talking about it won't make it go away. All it does is allow the truth to sneak up on you more easily."

I groaned.

"Nothing happened." Draco said, and I turned on him.

"Piss off, Malfoy. Who asked you."

"Oi!" he shouted. "I'm just trying to defend your honour."

I jumped to my feet. "Who said my honour needs defending. Get off your white horse, death-eater."

"No," Blaise groaned. "Stop shouting. My head hurts."

I fell back into my spot, and Draco poured himself a cup of tea.

"You're a swirling ball of animosity," Draco said, setting into an armchair. "It's no wonder you don't have friends."

I could feel flames pouring out of my eyes, but I said nothing.

"I know what it's like to blackout." Blaise was trying to change the subject. "It can be scary and frustrating to not know what happened. Draco tells me he was with you the whole night, and nothing went on, so you should rest easy."

I felt little comfort at this, but relaxed into my cup of tea all the same.

"So really, you should be thanking me," said Draco, opening his big dumb mouth, "rather than swearing. I've been nothing but kind and I've never had a kind word from you."

My head was pounding, and I was tired of fighting. I just wanted him to go away. I wanted to stop thinking about last night. "I have been nice to you." Blaise scoffed next to me. "Just last night I told you that you look like your father. Isn't that a compliment?"

Draco stood, his expression frozen. "No. Why would I want to resemble a man who gambles with his freedom and the safety of his family."

I smirked. "And yet you do."

He left, slamming the door to his room behind him.

Blaise was looking at me. "You really ought to have been in Slytherin."

It wasn't until much later when my pride subsided that his intention behind that statement became clear. Blaise respected Gryffindors, and he had lost some respect for me.

And I was still mulling over it that evening, pacing around the common room. My hangover had subsided, and while I wasn't as touchy as before, my mood did not improve. I couldn't stop thinking about what I had said to Draco, couldn't stop being frustrated at Blaise for getting upset with me. Draco deserved everything he got, but it still bothered me.

I sat down to finish up the DA list paper, finally casting the complete spell on the bit of parchment. Without knowing the spell Hermione had used, it was the closest I could get. The paper would track everyone who wrote their names on the paper, listening to what they said. If they should say anything about the DA to a Carrow supporter, their tongue would start to burn like they were eating a pepper, rendering the traitor unable to speak. If they tried writing it down, their fingers would catch fire.

Just as I finished and packed it away in my bag, Draco came into the common room through the main entrance. He sat at the round table, grumbling to himself.

Without realising what I was doing, I was sitting at the table with him, scribbling on a sheet of paper. He watched me suspiciously. I slid it over to him.

"Whats this?" He was glaring coldly at me. "Will it curse me when I read it?"

"No. It's the spell to make magic visible."

He read the slip of paper. "Why?"

I sat silently for a moment, watching as his confusion morphed into gratitude. "I shouldn't have treated you that way this morning. I was really in trouble last night with Nott, and I'm grateful for your - uh - assistance." I paused again. "I can't think of any way you could do harm with this spell." He was still looking at me, and the need to justify my actions grew. "And the only reason that I was there last night at all was because I owed Blaise. It's come to my attention that owing a Slytherin leads to bad places, so I don't want you thinking I owe you for last night."

He smirked at me. "You're debt is nullified."

"Okay." I stood and walked away. Behind me I heard him muttering the spell. I turned and walked back. "All the cryptic and not so subtle comments you've been making about being unhappy with You-Know-Who's regime, what's that about?"

He looked up at me, and I expected the cruel smirk to touch his face as I was used to, but I was surprised. His features remained soft. "They told me you were clever, Frey."

Even without resorting to cruel words and meanness, he was intimidating, but I was brave. For a moment I felt like the Gryffindor Blaise wanted me to be. "I just want confirmation. I want to hear you say it."

His eyes left mine and his fingers were trembling on the paper that held my spell. "I can't say it, but it's true. Is that clear enough for Gryffindor's finest?"

I nodded. "Crystal, Draco." I pointed to the paper. "Er, it works best non-verbally, and the wand motion is crucial."

"I remember."

We were quiet for a moment, grateful to have moved on to a safer topic, but more that there was catharsis in the air. We finally understood each other. He didn't deserve my censure, and now we both knew why. He may be a scoundrel and death eater, but some of that was positionally. Something changed in him, and now I saw it clearly.

The fire blazed suddenly behind me and I started. The room was thrown into shadows by the bright green light, blinding me temporarily. A dark figure stepped from the flames.

"Eris?" she said. She threw back her hood to reveal a head of blond hair, cold grey eyes, and thin pointed features so similar to those of the boy sitting next to me. She looked like a lioness, proud but weary.

I stammered, unable to respond to her query. She waited with her eyes fixed on me.

"I wasn't expecting you mother." Draco was standing, walking over to her.

"I had something urgent to discuss with you. There was no time to send an owl." Her gaze was unwavering, and I felt very cold under her scrutiny. "Draco, why don't you introduce me to your friend?"

He looked confused at the request but complied. "This is Frey Ollivander, she is the head girl. Ollivander, this is my mother, Narcissa."

I stuck my hand out to her instinctively, only to retract it when she did not return the courtesy.

"Draco has mentioned you to me. I believe I was expecting someone different." She paused. "Who are your parents?"

I blanched. "Greg Ollivander is my father. He is the nephew of Garrick Ollivander who owns the shop. My mother was a muggle. She died when I was ten."

She smiled sweetly at me. "And a good thing too, I understand."

Before I could react she turned to her son. "I am in a hurry to be back at the Mannor. Is there somewhere private we could talk?"

I slug my bag over my shoulder. "It's alright, Mrs. Malfoy, I will be going." I marched up the spiral staircase to my rooms, feeling their eyes on me. I slammed the door behind me, waited ten seconds, then threaded an extendable ear under the door.

"…was that about?" I heard Draco whispering.

"What do you know about Ms. Ollivander?"

The leather sofa squeaked as they sat. "Nothing. It's like she said, she's a half blood, and I think she's worked in her uncle's shop during the summers. She's peen pretty unremarkable until this year, a bit of a loner. Blaise seems to like her."

There was a pause.

"He thinks that if he has allies on both sides he will be safe no matter what happens."

"And what do you think of her?"

"I don't," and I could hear a tinny in his voice that told me he was smirking. "She is rude and small minded. I suppose she is clever, but Professor Snape made her head girl, so either he thinks she is incompetent or susceptible to dark magic."

Under other circumstances, this would have made me mad enough to come charging down those stairs and curse the both of them into piles of dust. After hearing him speak about his uncertainties, hearing real fear in his voice for the first time, I could tell now that he was faking. Perhaps he didn't know where Narcissa stood on the matter of Lord Voldemort and the war. He was covering for me.

"You know the same options are not available to us, Draco."

There was quiet for a while.

"You should stay away from her."

Draco snorted. "Why? She's not dangerous."

"Trust me, darling. She isn't who you think she is."

At this I jumped back, horrified at what she had just said. I retracted the extendable ear, pacing around my room. Minutes later, there was a loud woosh from the common room, and I opened my door.

Draco was alone.

"She's charming," I said, willing my voice to remain level while my heart pounded in my ears.

Draco just rolled his eyes.

With the charmed paper for the DA stuffed in a pocket, strode to the door. "I'm going out. Talk to you tomorrow."

"Night, Frey."

Somehow, he didn't believe her. He didn't know.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 11. The hanged man

It was days later, and as far as I could tell, Draco and I were friends. Part of me still hated him, but it seemed like the man I hated, the one who was a Death Eater, who had been so cruel for years, who tried to kill Dumbledore, he had been replaced by a moody but amiable young man.

I was sitting with Ginny at lunch before defence, talking about her horrendous Muggle Studies experience.

"You should have heard her," she stabbed a potato. "'Muggle borns aren't even human,' she said. That's how they can look so much like witches and wizards. They are not even human, and they can trick us into thinking they are one of us."

"I know who's not even human, she and her brother." I stuffed a whole roll in my mouth. I'd not been eating well lately, but things were finally settling down and I was starving. The first DA meeting would be this Friday. Everyone was signed up, and we even had a lesson plan. Essentially, we would mimic Harry's lessons from year 5. Most of the people who signed up were in the DA two years ago, but we could all use some practice. If we ran out of things to learn, we would look some stuff up to try.

Draco and Blaise were sitting opposite me two tables over. Blaise made a face at me, and I glared at him. Draco laughed, and I glared at him too. Cheeky bastards.

Neville and I had DADA next with the Slytherins, and I found myself resisting the urge to pass notes to Blaise. We were studying unforgivables, as if Professor Moody hadn't handled that in our fourth year.

In the margins of my notes I was jotting down ideas for DA meetings.

"What's that?" Blaise whispered.

I shut the book. "None of your business."

He smirked, and I sweated through the rest of the class. In the commotion of everyone packing up after the bell, he whispered in my ear. "You're secret's safe with me."

I groaned. I tried to keep these two parts of my life separate. I could handle being friends with Blaise and Draco, but not if they were going to interfere with my duty to my friends.

I walked back to my dormitory alone, considering if it would be worth it to meddle with Blaise's memory. There was an envelope with my name on it sitting in front of my door. It was written in neat swooping lettering with a deep blue ink. I sat in one of the common room armchairs and read the letter.

I read it again, not even feeling, just experiencing the sensation of wave after wave of shock swelling in me. I read specific lines over and over. I read the whole thing through again. The silence in the room was so profound that my ears were buzzing, filling the silence with white noise.

The door to the common room slammed, and I started.

"There you are! You ran off after class, and you didn't get a chance to tell Draco about what I saw." Blaise skipped down the stairs, landing his bottom on my armrest. "Or shall I tell him?"

Draco seemed entirely uninterested in Blaise's jest. He poked the fire back to life, while I sat clutching the parchment.

Blaise's grin faded. "Hey, I wasn't going to tell him. You can trust me, I have nothing to gain from it. What… what's wrong, sweet heart?" he touched my face, and I realised I had been crying.

"They went after my dad."

Draco was interested now, looking grim as death.

"Who?" Blaise was stroking my hair.

"Death Eaters. They came in the night, and no one knows where he is."

If it were possible, Draco looked even paler than usual. He shook his head. "I had no idea."

Part of me didn't believe him. "They… I mean, the Order of the Phoenix thinks he got away, that he is in hiding." I gasped as sobs seized me. "They took my uncle last summer, now my dad. What do they want?"

"Extortion, and fear. By taking family members of resistors they weaken their will to resist."

My brow furrowed. "Are you saying this is my fault?"

"No." He kicked the pillars of the fireplace. "Well, yes, I am. You could have made someone mad enough that they want to make you stop, and you're well known enough that killing you would make you a martyr."

"Maybe it was your mum."

Draco shook his head. "I don't think so. Look, if your father is half as tough as you, he is going to be fine."

"How do they know he got away?" Blaise was stroking my back.

"There was a big mess, and a lot of injured Death Eaters, and no body. He's probably on the run." Draco smirked, and I took a deep breath. "Lots of people will be willing to hide him. He will be fine."

Blaise stayed with me for a long time, comforting me and though my tears dried up quickly I was grateful for the company. When he had to go, I went to the Gryffindor common room to tell the others. I spoke in the most matter of fact tone, feeling dead and numb inside. Rather than the cooing and comfort Blaise had reacted with, the Gryffindors were silent. I knew how they felt. The great aura of fear and anxiety of the unknown, the terror that because of our actions here there would be consequences had come down and bitten me, and everyone was afraid the same thing would happen to them.

But I was lucky. The bite wasn't fatal.

I came back to the common room alone that night, not sure if I was ready to be alone. I was numb all over, and I felt that if I spent any amount of time sitting alone with my thoughts the fear, hurt, and confusion would overwhelm me. Luckily Draco was in the common room when I got there.

There was the tiniest trace of concern on his face as I sat next to him on the sofa.

I cleared my throat. "Can you believe this essay from Mcgonagall. I don't know how she expects this from us. I know we're seventh years, but on top of everything." My voice trailed off.

"Do you want to talk about it, or continue gibbering on about classwork?"

"I've been talking about it all day."

He closed the book he was reading. "You've been assuring the people who care about you that you're alright, not talking about it. Repressed emotions can cause a lot of lasting damage to the psyche."

"Please, what do you know about repressed emotions."

He didn't reply, but I felt him tense up beside me. I imagined him suddenly being an ocean away. There I go, opening my big mouth again and saying something I would regret later.

I clenched my fist, feeling the fear as it threatened to overflow. "This is so fucking shitty," I whispered, but I wanted to scream. "I haven't done anything to make anyone angry enough for this, and neither has dad."

Draco sat looking at his hands.

I felt suddenly desperate, as if by somehow knowing why the Death Eaters had come after my father, I could undo it. "Draco, please."

He looked up and we locked eyes. I reached out and took his hand.

"You know things. Please, tell me why he's doing this. What does the Dark Lord want with me?"

He pulled his hand out from mine. "What?"

My heart was pounding my my ears.

"What did you just call him?"

My face betrayed the panic welling up inside.

"Why would you call him the Dark Lord?" His face was hard as stone, but fear shone out from his eyes.

I sat speechless for a long moment before he packed up his stuff and left me alone with my thoughts. I drew my knees up to my chest and sat thinking for a long time.

I didn't see Draco all the next day. I guess he left before I woke up, because there was no sign of him in the common room, and then he was mysteriously absent from Muggle studies in the afternoon. I sat with Luna at the Ravenclaw table for dinner, taking a break from the gloom the Gryffindors had been feeling since my father's disappearance.

Luna liked quiet while we ate, and talked mostly of the DA after. To me, the DA meant salvation. Mcgonagall wanted me to make a difference here at school, and the battle against you know who might feel overwhelming, but the fight against the Carrows and for Hogwarts was more manageable.

"I've been personalising a curse for Alecto."

Luna smiled. "What does it do?" In the last couple of weeks I had recognised a certain determination in Luna's eyes, an almost cruelty. She sees things clearly in a way many others don't, and if she could sanction cursing a professor, then I felt I was probably justified.

"It will make her see things in the corner of her eye and in reflections, such as her own hair being on fire, or a little man standing on her nose."

"I think she should always think her brother is standing right behind her."

I frowned. "Why?"

"I think they don't get along. Don't you feel the animosity between them?"

"No. They're always looking after each other."

"I heard them fighting once. Amicus doesn't like it when Alecto steps on his toes." She smiled a toothy grin, and I poured myself some pumpkin juice.

A sudden impulse caused me to look over my shoulder at the Slytherin table. Blaise was sitting alone, chatting with some sixth years.

"Has Malfoy been giving you trouble?" Luna was looking at me with those big probing eyes, and I felt myself blush.

"No, he hasn't, and I guess that's what worries me."

"He may not be very nice, but I get the feeling that he is harmless."

I looked into my juice, watching bubbles rise and fall. "I agree with you for the most part. Besides, we have bigger fish to fry." I stood. "I'll see you tomorrow at the DA meeting, you know, if I don't see you sooner."

"Stay safe," she called after me.

I slept restlessly that night. I dreamt I was on the ocean, but by the time I woke up the details had gone.

The first DA meeting was scheduled for that night, and I could feel the excitement in the air. Fridays were my slow day, finishing classes at noon with transfiguration. I turned in a paper on the mathematical proof of Gamp's Law, glad to be rid of it. Some of my classmates' eyes were red rimmed, like they hadn't slept for finishing the paper, or like they had been crying. Lavender was one of these.

I sat with her at lunch, stroking her back while she snoozed on the table. Neville plopped down cheerily into the seat across from me.

"What's wrong with Lavender?"

"Transfigurations."

"I see," he said, stuffing a handful of crisps into his mouth. "So tonight is the night, eh?"

"Yes it is. Did you check on the room, get it all set up?"

"It only took a second. It's like riding a bike, you know. You never forget how to get in there once you figure it out."

I nodded. I was all to aware of this due to all my late night jaunts to my 'study room'. Neville went over the lesson plan with me for the hundredth time, and I can't say I was paying attention. Over Neville's shoulder, I caught Blaise's eye. He looked away quickly with a guilty expression.

"Er, I'll see you at the meeting, Neville. I've got some head stuff to do." I stood and walked toward Blaise.

"What is it? Do you need any help." Neville was a good prefect, and I was glad to have him by my side rather than Seamus or one of the other Gryffindor boys from my year.

"It's alright. I can handle it." Blaise watched me nervously as I approached. I sat down next to him at the Slytherin table, making Pansy Parkinson scooch over. She did so reluctantly at first, but when she saw who it was nudging her, she gave me a world of room and a sound of disgust.

"What'chya doing Blaisy?" I asked, putting my hand on his arm.

He shrugged. "Nothing. Just eating this brisket."

I sat watchfully next to him.

"It's really tender and juicy. How do you think the house elves do it?"

I rolled my eyes. "They have food magic. Now, will you please tell me whats going on?"

"Do you know if it is exclusive house elf magic, like it is innately theirs, or if they have some kind of spell that is passed down from generation to generation that we could use if we knew it?"

"I really don't know. Stop deflecting."

He cleared his throat. "I really don't know."

"You're such a bad liar for a Slytherin."

"I really don't know." He lowered his voice. "I was wondering if you knew, but you're obviously as oblivious as me."

I was thoroughly confused. If this was another deflection, it was excellent. "What are you talking about?"

"Draco came to see me this morning."

I tried to keep the stricken look of my face. "What did he say?"

"A lot of stuff, some of it made sense, but a lot of it was crazy. He's been under some very serious stress, and so far this year he's been handling it pretty well, but I'm worried about him. He usually doesn't tell me stuff about his life as a death eater, but I can see the toll it takes on him, and I know you've seen it too. Just tell me, did something happen that might have made him snap?"

I felt cold, a symptom of a flight or flight response. I was afraid. I was afraid for Draco, and I was afraid of Draco. I shook my head wearily, and stood to leave. "I need to check something."

Blaise stood too. "I'll come with you."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Blaise followed beside me, his long legs keeping up with me easily. "What ever it is that's going on between you two is more my business that you can imagine. I'm coming with you."

We hurried along in silence, and at first I wasn't sure where I was going, until I found myself in the common room. My door was ajar, and panic flooded me again. With Blaise at my shoulder and both of our wands raised, I pushed the door open to find my room torn apart but deserted. I made a bee line for the bedside table, while Blaise stepped in, carefully avoiding my possessions strewn across the floor.

The top drawer of the bedside table was empty, the contents thrown onto my bed. I searched frantically along the edges of the drawer until I located the false bottom. It too was empty.

"Shit!"

"What is it?"

I slammed the drawer shut. "A necklace, an heirloom."

Blaise paled. "What does it do?"

I fell onto the bed. "Nothing. It's just a necklace."

"Why would Draco take it?"

Rather than answering him, I ran out of my room to pound on Draco's door. "Get out here, Ferret."

Blaise followed behind me. "He would be an idiot to stick around after leaving your room in that state."

"Alohomora," I said, pointing my wand at the door and the handle gave in my hand. His rooms were empty too.

I slammed his door. "Fuck Merlin." Panic was building inside me like the urge to vomit. Blaise had questions, but I didn't have time and I had fewer answers. I ran out the door, sprinting down the staircases before he could follow.

I rested with my hands on my knees in a secret corridor, trying to think what to do next. I had to find Draco. He had my necklace, and if he took it he must know what it means. Or did he? I set off at a jog down deserted corridors, slowing to a walk when near people, so as not to raise suspicion. The library was bustling, students picking up books for the weekend, but I scoured the stacks for Draco, even the restricted section. Nothing. I asked Madam Pince if she had seen him, and she shook her head. I asked if anyone had checked out any books today on magical artefacts. She frowned at me and asked if my questions had an academic purpose. Rather than lying, I simply left. Suspicious librarians don't forget suspicious behavior.

I stood in an alcove, out of view of people passing by and thought. He could be anywhere, and I couldn't search the whole castle and grounds. I was more likely to run into Blaise, and the last thing I needed was more questions. There were only two places I was sure he would go: the Slytherin common room, and our common room. Even if I could get into the Slytherin common room, the risk and exposure wasn't worth it. I hurried back up the staircases, taking round about routes to get to my rooms. Once their, I locked myself in my disheveled dormitory, just waiting to hear the door to the common room open and for the burglar come back to the scene of the crime. I started tiding without magic. By staying busy I kept the panic at bay.

Time moved weirdly. For long periods, the space between the ticks of the clock on the bedside table would creep and stretch. After only a moment of tiding, the ticking sound would vanish, and time would jump. After what seemed minutes, hours had passed.

I sat on my floor, reorganising my books by subject when I heard the common room door shut. I leapt to my door, ear pressed to the wood, hearing footsteps. When they quieted, I unlocked my door and pushed it open soundlessly.

He was sitting in one of the armchairs, elbows on his knees and staring deep into the fire. I trotted down the stairs, and he turned to look at me. In the shadow of the fire light, his face was sinister.

"Lets talk," I started, striding over to him. He stood and pulled his wand on me. Mine was on my bed up the stairs. I blanched.

"Okay, lets talk." His voice was low and quiet. "You start. Tell me about what you've been hiding." His hair was disheveled, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and he looked like he hadn't slept. The combination made him look wild and a little insane.

I rolled my eyes, crossed my arms and cocked a hip. Even at wand-point, I was easily annoyed. "I'm not the Slytherin, here. I don't have to hide anything."

"Then I'll start." He started walking toward me. I backed up until my back hit a stone wall. "I am amazed I didn't see it earlier. Your performance was excellent, but you slipped up one too many times. I was suspicious of you from the start. It was too convenient that Snape made a Gryffindor head girl, that you would try to gain my trust. Sure, you were a bitch at first, an artistic choice to make your friendliness to me more acceptable. You befriended Blaise as an in with me, of course. You position yourself close to me, present yourself as a trustworthy confidant, ready to listen to my woes and pains, the perfect place for a spy."

I gasped and he took another step forward.

"It's too bad for you that my mother gave you away. I should have listened to her when she warned me about you. You should have watched yourself after that. You slipped up again and I was paying attention this time. Who in the resistance calls him the Dark Lord? Snape did, and look how that turned out. He was working for him the whole time. I know the signs, and I learned my lesson. I'm not going the same way as Dumbledore. So you can tell him anything you want because I've told you nothing. I am loyal to the Dark Lord and my family is loyal to him too."

We were nose to nose now, and I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my arms, forcing me against the wall and shaking me, his eyes wild.

He shouted in my face. "And if you tell him anything that causes him to hurt my family, I will kill you."

In one motion I broke his grip on my arms, pushing him hard. I swung a hand back and slapped him hard across the face. His expression went from menacing and insane to dazed.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" I shouted. Silence hummed in the room, and even the fire was hushed. "I'm not a fucking spy for You-Know-Who."

He touched his cheek where a blush was already blossoming. "Don't lie. How else would my mother know you unless she had seen you with the Dark Lord?"

"I'm not lying, Draco."

He sat back on the arm of the sofa. "At the fortnight you told me you were a liar. How am I supposed to just take your word for it."

I paused. The truth was not as horrible as he thought, but I would not disclose it unless absolutely necessary.

He rummaged through his robes. "If you're not a dark witch, then explain to me how I found this in your rooms." He held up my necklace.

I glowered at him. "Give it back."

He just shook his head, holding it up for inspection. "I was raised in a family that values heritage, and the dark arts. For much of my childhood I was schooled in the art of identifying dark artefacts. You can often tell friend from foe by the history of their jewellery. I went looking for answers in your rooms. Instead I found this and more questions. Do you know what it is?"

"It's just a necklace, and it's mine."

He frowned, and traced the oversized silver medallion that hung on a long chain, and we both stood transfixed by the image. "It's a coin, really, a symbol of a noble family, passed down to prove linage. I don't have to know what this picture on the face means to feel the dark magic, the history that it holds."

"It's Odin."

Draco looked up, torn from his bewitchment.

"The man hanging in the tree is Odin, the King of the Norse Gods, and God of wisdom. It's believed among many wizarding circles that the myth of Odin is based on an encounter between ancient Scandinavian muggles and Merlin, though there is no record of Merlin leaving Great Britain. The legends say that Odin misbehaved as a God, cheating and lying, sleeping around a great deal. He is most famous for hanging in a tree upside down for seven days to gain seven wisdoms, also called charms." I looked Draco right in the eyes and saw the recognition grow. "He made up spells, Draco."

"He was a wizard?"

"He was a god and a myth. On the other side, there is a snake curled in a spiral, his head on the outside, eyes watchful. This coin was given to my ancestors by some dark wizard, possibly Salazar Slytherin."

Draco's brow furrowed, and I felt for him and the rollercoaster he must be riding. "The Ollivander's have been in Great Britain for millennia, and there is no record of them engaging in dark magic."

I shook my head, dreading. "Not the Ollivanders, it belonged to my mum."

The air was expectant, and Draco was asking no more questions.

"The Nott family has this weird tradition. They like to name the females born to their family after the gods and goddesses of Muggles. I think it's something to do with witches being less than wizards but more than muggles. My mother was christened Eris, after the greek goddess of chaos. She was a death eater."

"I've never heard of her."

"Of course you haven't. She brought shame and dishonour on her family by running off with with an active member of the Order of the Phoenix during the first war. Then, years after the war was over, she was murdered making her memory easily forgettable."

I stood defensively against the wall, arms tight around my chest. Draco's face was twisted in confusion. "Easily forgettable for whom?"

"The Notts and other death eaters mostly. Obviously your mother hasn't completely forgotten. But also for my father and me."

"You lied your whole life about who you are?" His eyes were full of malice.

"You have no place judging me. You don't know what it was like."

He stood. "I know exactly what it is like. You abandoned your mother's memory over her heritage."

"She was dead. I was looking out for myself and my family. And you don't know what she was like, how she hurt us."

"No, I can't imagine," sarcasm was dripping from his lips. "I suppose she put your family under the power of a mad man, got herself locked up in Azkaban when you needed her most, leaving you alone to face the dark lord, forcing you to take his mark and become a murder for him." His cheeks were red with fury. "You're the one who doesn't know how bad it was. I took his mark for my family, and you left yours in the ground to be forgotten. My mother risked her life to keep me safe just like yours, and I stayed loyal. You betrayed her, you hypocrite, coward." He turned to go, but stoped at the bottom of the stairs and turned. "I would have done the same thing if I'd had the choice, but I wouldn't have been proud."

"You think I'm proud?"

"No. You're ashamed, but not of yourself. You're ashamed of her. Don't look to me for pity."

He climbed the stairs and slammed the door. I kicked the stone wall, screaming at myself. I sat on the floor panting, and picked up my necklace from where it lay by the stairs. I looped the long silver chain over my head and tucked the pendent into my shirt where it rested below my heart.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 12. And in short, I was afraid

I didn't sleep that night, especially after realising I had completely forgotten about the DA. I went to Gryffindor tower the moment I remembered, but everyone was already asleep. It was probably for the best.

I went early to breakfast the next morning. I picked at some eggs as the Gryffindors trickled in. Neville was first.

"What happened?" He was more concerned than anything.

"I was in trouble with Malfoy and we had it out big time."

"Seriously," he said through a mouthful of sausage, "what about?"

"Bullshit. He doesn't think I respect him."

Neville shrugged. "Who in the school does? Even You-Know-Who's supporters think he is weak because he didn't finish off Dumbledore."

"It's pathetic, really." I grimaced as I remembered our confrontation, feeling pathetic myself in the face of his accusations. I made every effort to avoid looking over at the Slytherin table, sure he would be there judging me again.

"Do you need me to kick his arse?" Ginny said later, smothering a crumpet with butter.

I chuckled. "No, it wasn't that kind of trouble. But next time he walks around the common room shirtless, I'll give you a call."

"Ick," she rolled her eyes. "No one needs to be blinded by his pasty flesh. Keep that grossness sheathed."

We both laughed hard, but mine caught in my throat as I locked eyes with Draco. He was just walking into the great hall, and while I froze immediately, he only faltered slightly before sauntering off to sit next to Blaise. Shame welled up in me.

I received a complete account of the first DA meeting from multiple points of view. Everyone who signed up (except for me) showed. Mostly it was upper years who had been a part of the DA two years ago, but there were lots of younger years there too. The class split into three groups, one run by Ginny, one by Luna, and one by Neville. Luna took the least experienced students, as she was the most patient. Neville took the average students, because he had the most to learn himself and was the most ambitious. Ginny took the most experienced students, because no one can cast a bat-bogy hex like her.

I listened patiently, oh-ing and ah-ing at all the right moments, mentioning again and again how sorry I was to have missed it, and all the while I felt eyes on me from across the great hall.

I spent the rest of the day in the Gryffindor tower hiding from Draco for no reason other than his judgement. It was pathetic. Why do I care what he thinks? He couldn't possibly understand my position or why I made the choices that I did. I did my rounds of the castle slowly that night, waiting as long as possible to get back to my dorm. When I did, Draco either wasn't there or was already asleep.

A figure stepped in front of the sun where I sat with my back against a yew tree. I squinted up at him, sleepy from the sun.

"Neville?" I asked, thinking he was the only tall dark haired light skinned boy who would approach me like this.

"Have you been lying to him too?"

A tightness blossomed in my chest as Theodore Nott crouched, his yellow eyes emotionless. "Go away," I said quietly, leaning my head back against the tree and staring off at the lake.

"I don't like the way you hang around Slytherins. Blaise is a fool, and if he wants to become a traitor like you I can't stop him, but Draco knows better. Stay away from him."

I closed my eyes. "I'm not a traitor, Nott. You have to have changed sides for that."

"Really? Because I heard a funny story about you, one that makes a lot more sense than the one you've been telling everyone for years." He put a hand on my shoulder, and I noticed the Inquisitorial Squad button on his robes. "It must be hard to straddle worlds the way you are, so I'm going to help you make the choice. If you stay away from Draco and Blaise, and all other Slytherins, I will stay away from you. If your love for them is stronger than your love for the resistance, tell me when the next Dumbledore's Army meeting will be, and how to get into the room, and your secret will be safe with me. What do you say, Frey?"

I shrugged his hand off my shoulder, a chill rolling through me. Waves on the lake ran over the rocks, and I waited to say anything until Nott's comfort and confidence drained under my gaze.

"The next time you come near me making threats, I will hurt you. You'll be no use to the dark lord after I'm finished with you."

He stood. "Just to be clear, this is blackmail. Your web of lies is turning to dust."

I waited for him to be long gone before I strode toward the castle. I should have gone to the Gryffindor tower right then and explained everything. They would have believed me, and I would have told them about Blaise too, that he only wanted to be safe, and they would have respected that. I should have cut ties with Draco right then, and the secret Nott was holding over my head would have been powerless. I don't know if it was fear of censure from my friends that kept me from confiding in them, or fear of losing Draco, someone I had already lost, but I wandered the castle until I found him in the library, alone in an alcove pouring over a stack of books. He didn't hear me approach until I sat down in a chair next to him.

"What?" He sneered, "thought of more lies to spread that make you look good?"

I smirked at him. "Ouch, that burned. Something must be distracting you from your insult game, because that was sad." When he didn't reply with something more piercing, I grew serious. "Draco?"

"What do you want," he said annoyed.

"Did you tell anyone?"

He didn't look up but his lips stretched into a vindictive grin. "Still all you can think about are your secrets."

"Well, that is the way secrets work. I thought you off all people would understand."

"Doesn't that get exhausting?"

"Of course it does, but you can't stop once you start."

He sighed. "Who would I tell?"

"Blaise? Crabbe and Goyle? I don't know who your friends are."

He laughed, not the cruel laugh I was used to but something softer. "Crabbe and Goyle were cronies."

"And you finally learned to take care of yourself, so you don't need the muscle?"

"They're not very smart, but when my family fell from grace they decided our friendship was no longer advantageous."

I tried for a moment to feel bad for him. The two people he had always been able to rely on left him over his families misfortune, but the longer he looked at me, the harder it became. I burst into laughter, and Madam Pince was on me in a second. I held my hand over my mouth, tears streaming from my eyes while Draco fumed.

"I'm sorry, it's just so funny," I whispered, my voice horse. "I thought maybe you realised that they were a bad influence on you, and ended the friendship, but they dumped you. You were dumped by Crabbe and Goyle. It's so ridiculous."

"Hey, bitch, at least they knew the truth about who I was, and of course I didn't tell anyone about… your heritage."

"Even Blaise?"

"Not even Blaise. He keeps secrets about as well as a French tailor."

I smiled, but it was short lived. "Nott knows. He's blackmailing me."

"You can't give him what he wants. Theodore is ruthless. If you show any weakness he will devour you."

I knew this already, but the idea of being exposed hurt. It hurt almost as much as feeling misunderstood by Draco.

He leaned back in his chair, pushing his platinum hair out of his eyes, and watched me as I tried to speak.

"You were right, of course. I've betrayed my heritage and the memory of my mother, and I'm not proud of that. When viewed as facts it's disgraceful, but somehow it just felt natural, because my mother betrayed me too." I played with my wand, spinning it between my fingers while Draco listened patiently to my explanation. "My parents were never married. They met during the war. My mother was a death eater and my dad was in the Order of the Phoenix. It was disgustingly Romeo and Juliet, except for my mother it was just a fling. My dad was completely in love with her, believing he could save her or some nonsense, and when his affection became to much she just left him in the night, didn't even say goodbye. She came back, though, when it was apparent that she was pregnant. Her mother demanded that she tell her who the father was. She hurt her, but my mum knew that her mother would kill her if she knew the father of her child was a blood traitor. She escaped and lived with my father until I was born. She named me in the tradition of her family, after an ancient muggle Goddess, but then she left, went back her family who hushed it all up like it was some scandal. My father left me with his parents who lived out in the country for the duration of the war, where I would be safe.

"And then the war was over. Death eaters were being rounded up, some were let go, and others were locked up in Azkaban. My mum wasn't a very active death eater. She explained her role to me once as 'devotional' and 'in training'. She was young during the war, no older than 21, and no one could confirm that she had committed any crimes other than following the dark lord. She came back to my father and me, and for years we lived as a family. We stayed with my Ollivander grandparents in their cottage during the summers, and she would hold me in her arms on rainy days and tell me about the myths of the goddess I was named after, and the one she was named after. Usually we lived in London with my father, but it's the summers at the cottage that I remember.

"There was always a lot of fighting at home. My dad spent all day at work and when my mum was home she usually wouldn't pay much attention to me. If I bothered her too much she would hit me, so I learned quickly not to bother her. Still, I hero worshiped her as a little girl. I saw my dad as weak, because he wouldn't stand up to her, and that made her the strong one. Now I understand that she was just abusive and my dad didn't know how to escape that toxic relationship. They had a really big fight one night. They were up for hours screaming at each other and I can remember my head pounding all night long. I lay in bed in agony just listening to them. She left, and when things quieted down, I got in bed with my dad. I had never seen him cry before, and it was scary. I think a part of me knew something terrible was going to happen. She was found dead the next day. They never found out who did it, if it was death eaters, or Aurors, or even just a mugging. I was ten years old.

"A year later when I came to school, I felt for the first time that I was free from the pain my mother had caused my father and me. I had escaped him and his unending grief, and it was so much easier to forget and pretend than to face the truth here too." My voice petered off. Now that I had said it all, it didn't seem like much of an excuse for my behavior. "I've never told anyone that before."

For a long time, Draco said nothing, just sitting with me in the quiet of the library. "When I was little, I wanted to learn how to dance. When I told my father he hit me, and it was just the first of many times. I developed this unreasonable hate for dancing, but in fourth year Blaise offered to teach me. That is how we became friends, and I've loved dancing ever since."

I had no idea how to respond to this, so I said nothing, and eventually, he spoke again.

"Isn't that how this is supposed to work. You tell me something you've never told anyone, and I do the same? Now we have a friendship based on mutual trust."

I laughed. "You're a robot, Draco."

"A what?"

"A robot. A machine. It's okay, it's the thought that counts." I felt a warmth grow in my chest. The dark lord was rising, my father was missing, I was being blackmailed, and somehow, sitting in the library with Draco Malfoy was the safest I had ever felt.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 13. Death By Water

I considered the real possibility that my choice to keep Draco in my life might have been a sign of severe hedonism and lack of foresight, both of which are incurable personality flaws. However, as an actual human person it is a challenge to dwell in the cognitive dissonance produced by this conundrum; for one, I believed I had done the right thing, but it was clearly not choice a rational and moral person makes. For a long time, I tried not to think about it, but three days later I came to a realisation. In my moment of choosing, I experienced an unconscious intuition, data I had not actively analysed about Draco that lead me to this conclusion. Not only was his character worth a roll of the dice, but I somehow knew that he was indispensable.

Anyway, hindsight is 20/20.

Draco and I were in the Room of Requirement considering the pros and cons of various strategies for dealing with my Nott problem, however to an onlooker this may not have seemed the case. I stood in the centre of the hall, waving my wand at a frog which appeared and disappeared, and occasionally making notes in my spell journal. Draco was completely reclined on a couch that the room had made just for him, reading a book on alchemy.

I cast my vanishing spell which wasn't actually a vanishing spell on the frog, reaching out delicately to where it had been, cursing when I felt his warted surface. I waved my wand at it again, reversing the spell.

"Can't we just kill Nott?" I crossed off another variation of the nonverbal incantation. "That feels like an easy solution."

"An easy solution?" He muttered, flipping a page in his book. "You can think that, but when you're face to face with him disarmed, you'll realised murder is never an easy solution."

I blanched, then scoffed. "I wasn't being serious."

"And yet you received a serious response."

I continued trying incantations, when the final one was successful. Somehow it was always the last one. I made a note in my journal to try starting from the bottom of the list first.

My toad was completely insubstantial, invisible, and silent without being transfigured or vanished. I reversed the spell, and removed the immobulus spell I had put on the toad. I didn't want him hopping away while invisible when I couldn't find him again.

I sat on Draco's couch by his feet and penciled in the proper incantation, feeling confident with my accomplishment. He ignored my presence, but bent his knees to give me room.

"What am I going to do, Draco?"

He turned a page. "I don't know. I'm just the stupid Death Eater."

I patted his knee. "You know I value your input." I didn't say it, but I thought about how he used the vanishing cabinet in this very room the year before to sneak Death Eaters into the castle. When we talked about it once before, he seemed to believe it was a reasonable cognitive leap. If Montague had never gotten stuck in there, he wouldn't have thought to use it. What he didn't realise is that the vanishing cabinet solution would have never occurred to someone else in his situation, and that what he called a 'reasonable cognitive leap' was a stroke of genius. I had admired him for his cleverness even before we became friendly, and now I wondered about the good he could do with his mind if he applied himself to more tasteful ventures.

He set his book on the ground and sat up properly. "What is the worst that could happen if your friends find out that you've lied to them about your past, and that your long dead mother was a Death Eater?"

"They could give me a scarlet letter."

"Is this another one of your muggle references?"

"Yes."

"Stop."

I grinned teasingly at him.

"You keep telling me how great you think these friends of yours are, how forgiving and tolerant, but you think they'll hate you if they know who you really are."

"War does terrible things to people."

"But they are supposed to be 'the good guys', morally superior and righteous."

"No, well, a little. The righteousness and moral superiority does not extend to all things. Look at any war or conflict in history and you will see that the side that held the moral high ground was always in some way morally problematic. We're all human, and we have human feelings and make human decisions. Their humanity may view me as a threat now. I just don't know how they will react."

"I think you're underestimating them."

I turned on him, eyes narrowed. "You don't even know them."

"I've known all of you for six years, and even as your default enemy, I got to know all of these friends you say will reject you the moment they find out the truth about you. Excuse my while I vomit, but they're good people."

"Aww," I cooed, "thank you."

He grumbled, returning to his book.

All joking aside, I resolved to think on it over the weekend. Tomorrow was Friday, and after my first DA meeting, I may have had a better idea of my friends reactions to the truth.

I did not realise that caution was in the wind until it was beyond the horizon. Muggle studies was my last class of the day, and I leaned against the back wall of the classroom talking to Neville about the DA. He hoped we could both take the middle group of students; he could lead it and I would assist where needed. I was the better spell caster, and maybe I would have lead the group better too, but this configuration was more enjoyable for the both of us. Besides, I liked to see Neville in charge. It reminded me that he was once the shy and awkward boy that lost his toad, and how much he had grown. I liked the man he grew into.

Alecto came in and shot firecrackers out of her wand, shocking the whole room into returning to our seats. Neville was seated far away but Draco was right in front of me. He looked at me before he sat down, his cool grey eyes softening before a disinterested sneer fell into place.

The topic of today's discussion was blood traitors. I tuned out her lecture by doodling in my note book, and making notes about new spells I wanted to work on. It was easier than listening and becoming infuriated.

"A blood traitor is simply a wizard of pure blood who has betrayed his people for a love of muggles and mud bloods. It is a delusional condition to believe that muggles are equal to wizards and witches, or even to believe that we can coexist peacefully, and yet the blood traitor insists on fighting the truth. Now, does anyone think that a blood traitor is better than a mud blood?" The room was silent until someone raised their hand.

"I think I still don't understand what a blood traitor is. Could you give us an example."

I felt my mind drift into the Friday afternoon lecture fog when I heard my name from the front of the classroom. I looked up a little sleepily to see everyone looking at me.

"Get up here, Ollivander." Alecto Carrow was pointing at me and beckoning me to the front with her.

I felt unsteady and my stomach bit as I walked up the aisle, my cloak flapping a little behind me. She put her hands on my shoulders and turned me to face the class. Her swelled hands clutched me while she stood next to me, too short to talk over my shoulder.

"Here is an excellent example of a blood traitor. Freya Ollivander is a pure blood witch who has been taught and believes that muggles are not very different from wizard kind. This is a confusion many of you may have fallen into due to your prior education, and this isn't your fault. For Ms. Ollivander here, however, the treachery is more insidious."

My gaze was met across the crowded classroom, each expression a variation on the confusion and shock I felt. I finally locked eyes with Draco who displayed none of the panic I felt inside.

"Her father comes from a long line of wand makers, a noble people, but her mother was a follower of the Dark Lord during the first war before his fall. Many blood traitors come from a line of traitors, but this is not the case for Ms. Ollivander. Her mother was a patriot, a cherished member of the pure blood community and surely she taught her what her heritage means for her, how it exalts her above muggles and even wizards of less pure blood.

"But before Ms. Ollivander could attend Hogwarts even, her mother was brutally murdered by muggles, the same creatures she fought to oppress. One might think that her own daughter would see the true nature of muggles and follow her path, but Ms. Ollivander threw away her heritage and her people. By supporting the cause of the mud bloods and muggles, she seeks to seal the fate of wizards and witches to be wiped out, our culture destroyed. This is the crime of blood traitors, and they are worse still than mud bloods because they cannot be censured from society. We need their pure blood more than ever now.

"The only way to deal with a blood traitor is to educate them. I am happy to announce that Ms. Ollivander is on her way to salvation. The road is long, but her admission of guilt was the first step. She came to me in private, told me all that I tell you now, and with that she gave me information about some student disruptors."

I was amazed that my knees never buckled during this whole speech. I kept my eyes on the stone floor before me, unable to bear the looks of my friends and see the betrayal they felt as all my secrets were laid bare. But I was shocked at Alecto's last admission and my eyes caught Neville's just as he was hauled to his feet by members of the inquisitorial squad. I made a move to do something, to try to stop them, I suppose, but Alecto gripped my shoulders with her surprisingly strong hands, and I crumpled to my knees. I looked up just in time to see Neville, Lavender, Seamus, and 10 other seventh years who attended DA meetings be hauled bodily out of class. Everyone watched them, except Blaise and Draco, who kept their eyes, and their looks of dismay and concern on me. Blood was rushing in my ears. The door slammed behind them, and I threw off Alecto's arms. I ran to the door, yanking at the door knob that wouldn't budge.

"They didn't do anything. I didn't tell them anything! Where are you taking them?"

Alecto grabbed the hood of my robes and hauled me backwards. I fell flat on my back, the stars clearing from my eyes in time to see her flick her wand at me, malice welling up in her face. Pain seared through me, and though it was only for a moment, it felt like an age. Though the haze of aftershock, I heard her shout, "class dismissed."

By the time I sat up, the classroom was empty except for Draco and Blaise, both of whom were standing near me, looking down at me with a mixture of fear and confusion. I stood and pushed past them, but Draco grabbed my arm.

"Where are you going?"

I shook his hand off. "Don't touch me. You… You didn't do this, but fuck you Malfoy."

He followed me out the door, Blaise behind him, and I set off at a run. "Where are you going," he shouted after me.

"I have to warn the others."

I left them in the dust. I didn't need Slytherins tagging along, not now. But I was too late. I held my knees, panting, as I saw Ginny, Luna, and every other member of the DA, every student who had gone the the meeting I'd missed be hauled from their classroom.

"It's good to see you've chosen our side," said Harper as he pulled two second years along. I could have murdered him, but Amicus watch me, wand in hand. They were all gone, all taken. We were busted. One meeting of the DA and they knew who we were, and everyone thought it was me that gave them up.

I don't know how I got to Gryffindor tower, but it was empty while I waited. One of the little Gryffindor girls who's wounds I'd tended in the first week of school approached me, wondering where everyone was, I told her I didn't know, but that they were all in trouble. The words I must not talk in class were legible on her hand in red raised scars. I told her she should go.

I don't know what I expected when everyone returned, that they would listen. Draco made it seem like they would, that they would accept my side of the story and welcome me into their fold like a hero. But they returned bleeding, broken, and furious. They wanted justice, not the prodigal.

"I don't know who you are anymore," Ginny screamed at me, face red as her hair.

"I didn't do this," I said for the hundredth time, while Seamus pushed me out the portrait hole. I caught Neville's gaze for the first time that evening. "You know I couldn't have done this."

"You made the list. No one should have been able to say anything, but they did. It must have been you."

I stumbled backward out of the portrait hole and the door slammed in my face. The fat lady glared at me, her face inches from mine. "Don't try to come back. You're no longer welcome," she said, sober for the first time in her career as the gatekeeper.

It was raining hard as I stood by the lake, shedding my cloak. They were right. I may not have told the Carrows exactly who was on that list, but it was my actions that caused it to be told. I kicked off my shoes, folded my socks, my bear feet on the wet stones. It was Nott, he must have been behind it. I unbuttoned my shirt, stripped off my pants, standing now in the rain in only my knickers and a camisole. He followed through on his blackmail. The water was painful, then numbing. I walked until I was waist deep, then dove. I deserved it, too. Ginny was right. How could she know me. I traded in my friends for Malfoy, refusing to give him up when I could have kept them safe. There was an island ahead, just a pile of rock that sat above the water on the black lake that the giant squid had made. It was more than that, though. It was my list. I swam hard, but I could feel my arms growing sluggish, so I pushed. Every breath became an effort. The list failed. Someone had been able to tell the Carrows the names of everyone who had been a part of one DA meeting. I felt my body sinking, and I wasn't sure if my legs were moving anymore. I pulled hard with my arms, almost to the rocks, finally grazing them with my fingers. I pulled my body onto the island. The list didn't work the way it was supposed to. It was my fault. And the thoughts finally started to slow. My skin burned where raindrops touched it as I lay on the rocks. It was the list. Someone was talking to me. "It was the list," a voice said.

"Come on," said another voice, and hands that were white hot grasped my arms and pulled me to feet that couldn't hold my weight.

"The list."

I blinked the rain from my eyes, and pressed my face against the cloaked figure that held me on my feet. The chest was warm, and smelled like pine trees in warm rain.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 14. Hysteria

I must have blacked out because the next thing I remember is lying on the couch in the heads' common room, wrapped in a blanket and staring into the fire. A shiver like an earthquake ran though me, and I groaned. Every inch of my body hurt, each pinprick of blood returning to my flesh felt like I was being stabbed with a hot poker. And then I saw Draco. He too was wrapped in a blanket and sipped tea, watching the fire. His hair was wet and pushed back from his face like it was at the fortnight, a style that I quite fancied. I sat up, shivering and feeling weak, and poured myself a cup of tea. Draco looked over, face thrown into contrast from the fire.

"Are you ready to talk?"

The tea smelled amazing, and I held it close to my face. "Talk about what?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I've heard that people are supposed to talk about their feelings when they make an attempt."

"What are you on about?" My head was beginning to pound.

"Your swim in the lake. I had to pull you out of the water, Frey! What were you thinking?" He rubbed his face. "What did your friends say to you?"

It wasn't like I had forgotten, but that there was a thin veil in my mind between the words Ginny and Neville had said to me and where my mind was now. When I thought of it, their voices were muted and I couldn't remember looking them in the eyes. "They didn't believe me."

"I gathered as much."

"And they've kicked me out of the common room."

Draco scoffed. "How? You're a Gryffindor. You know the password. They can't keep you out."

"The portrait that guards the door won't let me back in." I set down my cup of tea, feeling myself sway. I crawled off the couch, blanket still around my shoulders, and curled up on the rug closer to the fire.

"Frey?"

"I was just going on a walk. I needed to clear my head, y'know."

"And you walked right into the lake."

I shrugged. "I like swimming."

"The water is freezing. It was night. I found you way out in the middle, clinging to some rocks."

"Did you know the Giant Squid made that pile of rocks?"

"Why didn't you come to talk me?"

"Oh yeah, like you're Mr. Support."

"I was the one who found you."

"I know what you're getting at, Draco!" I shouted, head turned at a manic angle toward him. "I wasn't trying to kill myself."

"Really? Because with the month you've had I wouldn't be surprised if you did."

"Oi! I'm not weak. It was an impulse, alright. I didn't know what I was doing, but I didn't want to die. It was, at worst, some kind of self harm. I couldn't stop myself thinking of ways to prove to them that I was innocent. But none of my plans could work. I just wanted it all to stop," I growled, "and it did. Something I did finally worked the way it was supposed to. I lost control for a moment, and everything was fine. I'm sorry that I put you out." I paused, and Draco said nothing. "And I thought you didn't care if I lived or died."

"Maybe I don't, but Blaise does. He insisted we go looking for you. He's still out there, actually."

Thinking of Blaise made my heart warm. "I should go get him, tell him I'm alright."

"If anyone is going to, I will. You're in no state to be wandering around the castle. Besides, he'll be checking in here soon." He paused, sipping tea. "You're going to have to tell him everything, you know."

I bit my lip as a feeling bloomed in my chest, spreading into my head, my legs, my arms. Tears poured freely from my eyes, and a weight in my throat chocked my breathing, turning it into sobs.

"Oh bloody hell. What have I said now? Frey?" Draco sank to his knees and put a weary hand on my shoulder.

I just shook my head, coughing when trying to speak. "He… He isn't going to hate me when I tell him, is he?"

"No, I really don't think he will. I think he's going to be glad to know what's been going on all this time."

I doubled over with sobs, and Draco looked on in horror. "Oh merlin, I'm so fucking happy."

When Blaise had arrived and I'd cleaned up my tears, I realised I was still half naked under my blanket, but I didn't feel ashamed. I told Blaise everything, starting from my mother's torrid past, though to the events of that evening, and Draco made sure I didn't leave out anything.

"I'd have hit you too, I hope you know," Blaise said to Draco, still caught up on how Draco had found all this out. "You're too paranoid for your own good."

I felt Draco's thoughts reflect in my own mind. He has to be, but Draco only shrugged.

"It still doesn't seem right," said Blaise. "The Gryffindors are all about acceptance. This doesn't seem like the kind of thing they would do."

Draco nodded. "That's what I said. I really thought this was an irrational fear of yours, that they would find out and wonder why you didn't tell them sooner."

"It probably was u nder any other circumstance," I paused, feeling my heart sink. "But it was just too perfect. I've been behaving suspiciously, keeping secrets, missing DA meetings, hanging out with Slytherins. And I was the one that made the list. It would have been so easy for me to betray them, and if my mother was a death eater, then I'd have motive. He planned it perfectly."

Blaise frowned. "Who's he?"

"Nott," Draco and I said at once.

Draco cleared his throat. "He followed through with his threat. How did he do it, though?"

"He needed someone on the inside, someone who told him who was in the DA." I groaned and pulled the blanket closer around me. "He probably had dirt on more members of the DA than me. Someone must have given in. But the list! How did he get around the list?"

"What list?"

"The list of DA members. I put a hex on it so no one could talk about the DA with supporters of the Dark Lord." My heart sank. I looked at Draco and saw that he noticed what I had. "He didn't figure it out."

"Why do you say that?" said Blaise.

"Because the hex didn't work. I'm not feeling a thing and I'm talking to a death eater about the DA right now." I stood. "I need to find that list. I need to figure out what went wrong."

Blaise stood too and stretched. "Then we will. We'll start tomorrow." He pulled me into a hug. "I'm glad you're alright."

"We'll see about that."

I was huddled in a corner of the library with Blaise the next day, watching Ginny, Neville, and Luna huddled in another corner of the library.

"Okay," I said, watching as Amicus Carrow approached the trio. "You know what you're looking for?"

"Yes. Let's do it." Blaise's face was stony. I threw a Weasley's Wildfire Wiz-bang at Carrow where he stood just around the corner from Ginny, Neville, and Luna. It exploded at his feet, and sparks flew all around the library, knocking books off shelves and generally causing havoc. Carrow shriek of rage mixed with the furor of explosions and every student jumped from their seats to investigate the commotion. Luna was the only one of the trio to see me grinning, and while I winked at her, she didn't grin back and my heart sank. As the fireworks died Carrow stalked around the library, grabbing each student in turn by the fronts of their robes, screaming accusations into their faces as his pants smouldered. He slapped Ginny across the face during his accusation just as Blaise returned to my side. He pulled me away from the library, but once out of earshot of Carrow, I shook off his arm, feeling sick with rage.

"That had better been worth it," I said, taking the papers from Blaise.

"I don't think it was."

I searched through the rolls of parchment as we walked back to the common room. The list wasn't in there. Blaise and I sat sulkily, looking through Neville's Herbology homework and a letter from Luna's father, but no list.

"I should get this stuff back to them."

"We could leave it in the library."

Draco slammed the door behind him as he entered, looking very moody. "There was an explosion in the library. You two know anything about that?"

"Nothing, Mr. Head boy, sir," Blaise said, nudging me.

Draco smirked. "I thought I recognised a Weasley product. Did your boyfriend send those to you?"

I blushed, but ignored his comments.

He shook sparks out of his cloak, and sat next to me. "I brought you something," he said, puling a paper box from his bag.

I frowned as I opened it, not sure what to expect from Draco, but grinned when I found it to contain a double helping of fish and chips. He placed a thermos of pumpkin juice next to it, and my mouth watered.

"Why are you bringing me food?"

"I haven't seen you in the great hall for a while, and I never see you eating in here. I just thought you might appreciate it."

I waited, somewhat astonished by this act of kindness.

"I've not poisoned it." He scowled.

"Thanks, I guess."

Blaise was bursting with silent laughter, and I kicked him under the table.

"So you didn't find the list," Draco said, shuffling through the parchments taken from the library.

I shook my head as my mouth was full of chips.

"What's the plan now?"

All of a sudden, I didn't feel so hungry.

On Monday, I was at best completely ignored by members of the DA. In charms my bag strap broke, sending all of my books onto the stone floor. When I later looked at the torn edge, I saw that it had certainly been cut intentionally. I could feel eyes on me from all around, only to find them otherwise engaged when I turned to catch my watcher. When entering the Great Hall for meals, I found every seat unavailable and the other three tables just as unwelcoming. Since then I opted to eat my meals in the kitchens, where Dobby was delighted to serve me.

It was two days since Blaise and I had plotted to get the list from the Ginny, Neville, and Luna in the library, and I still didn't have a plan to find it. It was highly unlikely that they would carry it with them, which had made the library plot a long shot. It was probably in the Gryffindor common room, or perhaps the room of requirement. I couldn't get into the common room anymore, and I couldn't make the room of requirement appear, even to let me into my study room. I couldn't imagine that the DA had somehow shut me out of there too.

After a particularly trying transfiguration class, when no one would pair up with me, and I had to join a group of three with Draco and Pansy Parkinson, McGonagall asked me to stay for a moment after class. I joined her at her desk, the skin on one of my arms covered in tiny green scales as Pansy had tried to turn me into a snake and failed. Draco nodded to me as he left, and I scratched at my arm.

McGonagall flicked her wand at me, and my arm returned to normal. "Take a seat, Ms. Ollivander."

She pushed a bowl of biscuits toward me and I took one.

"How are you doing?" she squeaked, folding her hands on her desk.

"I'm fine, Professor."

"Because I've heard what happened on Friday."

I felt my face warm, but I refused to look away. "I want you to know that it's always seemed strange to me that you would lie about your heritage. I knew your mother when she was in school, and she was a suspicious character. You and she have that in common, but you've been in my house for six years and I believe that you'll always be loyal to Gryffindor. I don't believe you've done what you've been accused of." She pushed a piece of parchment across the table to me. "And I want you to find out who did."

It was the list, each name signed in a different scrawl. "Where did you get this?"

"It was entrusted to me, and now I am entrusting it to you. I've already attempted to uncover this parchments secrets, but I simply do not know enough about the spell placed on it." She eyed me meaningfully. "You should be more careful, Ms. Ollivander."

"You don't need to tell me twice." I stood to leave, then turned back. "Thank you, Professor."

"If you need anything, you can speak to me. And be careful who you trust."

"I understand," I said, careful not to trust a death eater.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Chapter 15. The fool

The list was useless. I examined the charm I'd placed on it, and found it to be in perfect working order, never tampered with. It was tracking every person who put their name on that list, what they said, and to whom, but for a reason I could not explain, the hex wasn't being triggered.

"I'm afraid to try to fix it," I told Blaise one evening, while I was still pouring over the list, duplicating the charm on another piece as a test. "Because if it works, I'll get the full blast of the hex, and that's no good."

Blaise grimaced and scribbled his name on the parchment. Later, when he tried to tell Draco my favourite colour, his lips sealed shut. They wouldn't reopen until he ceased his efforts. Whatever went wrong with this list was specific to it, not my charm or me.

"Maybe if you could see the list better, you might be able to see who's responsible."

I turned on Draco, horrified that he would suggest such a simple thing after days of examining the list. "Are you saying I should turn on a lamp?" But he had a glazed look in his eyes that one gets when they use my spell for seeing magic. I performed the spell on myself, and examined the list with new eyes, but I was only left with more questions.

Nine names were glowing on the list, mine and eight others. These were the names of those who had spoken to supporters about the DA.

"It couldn't be all of them." Draco said, looking closer.

"I can imagine that these were the people who broke under interrogation. A lot of them are under years." I felt sick and paced around the room.

He left me with my thoughts then.

It was later, after class when the common room was flooded with green light, and Draco stepped out of the fire. I was finishing an report for McGonagall, placing the final full stop as the flames died.

"How goes it?" I asked, grinning. I'd fallen behind on my work in the past weeks, and it felt good to be catching up.

But Draco didn't reply. He threw an ashy cloak over the couch and strode away from me to his room.

"Oi!" I followed after him, catching his arm just as he began ascending the stairs. He stopped but didn't look back.

"Let go, Frey." His voice was quiet like I'd never heard it before, and I felt a coldness spread though me.

I did release him, but I climbed the stairs to stand between him and the door. "Where were you?"

"Home." He didn't meet my gaze. His lips were pinched into a line, as though he were ashamed, but there was something empty in his eyes and in the way he wouldn't look at me.

I felt a remembrance pushing at the back of my mind break through, and thought back to almost a month ago when I'd sat in this very room, feeling dead and empty inside and Draco had been the only one to see what had been done to me.

"Why were you cursed?" I asked, and he looked at me for just a moment.

"The Dark Lord doesn't need a reason." He stepped down, turning away from me. "I'm going to get some dinner. I'll see you later."

But I followed him. I'd stayed away from the great hall since I'd been accused of betraying the DA, nicking food from the kitchens instead. He walked fast away from me, but I kept up by running every few steps. "The Dark Lord is staying in your house?"

"Go away."

"What does he want from you?"

We were getting closer to the great hall, and as we turned the last corner, I panicked, knowing I wouldn't be able to talk to him in there. I took him forcefully by the arm, pulling him into a niche, out of view of a gaggle of students standing near the entrance to the great hall.

He tried to prise my hand from his arm, but I held on tight.

"Listen, there is a serious double standard going on here, and I need it to be resolved."

He glared down at me. "It's not that simple."

"Oh, yes it is," I said in a hushed whisper. "Since the beginning I've been opening up to you, and you've been a real mate with the listening and chocolate. But how am I supposed to trust you if all you do in return is give me hints about some kind of discontent. It's not fair to me, and it's not fair to you."

Any remaining colour in his face faded, and his voice shook. "He'll kill me."

"I'm not asking to be told his secrets." I paused, and released him arm where I'd been gripping it so hard. My hand trailed down his sleeve to hold his hand. "I'm just asking to be given a chance to earn your trust the way you've earned mine." He raised an eyebrow at me, and I rolled my eyes. "I mean, you talk to Blaise about these kinds of things."

"I really don't. He respects my privacy."

"Then maybe you should." I leaned back against the wall, still holding his hand. "Besides, you don't respect my privacy. You broke into my room."

"I thought you were spying on me for the Dark Lord."

"And I'm not, but you still don't trust me."

"I can do this on my own. I've been doing it for more than a year."

"And how's that working out for you?" I asked, and he went a little pink.

"I," he said, falling silent and avoided my gaze. I squeezed his hand and he looked back at me. "The mannor has become a sort of head quarters for the Dark Lord. He isn't there all the time, but if anyone gets called to meet with him that is where they go. He wanted to discuss some goings-on at the ministry. He entrusted my father to make sure a law passed that gives snatchers more agency, but it didn't go though in the first round. I was there because the Dark Lord says that perhaps more leverage is needed to ensure my fathers loyalty. So he… he said that if my father fails again he'll order my father to kill me. To prove his sincerity, he used the imperious curse on him and made him torture me." He paused and smiled. "It's not the first time I've been cursed by the Dark Lord or my father. Don't look at me as though it's sad. I'm used to it. This is why I didn't want to tell you. I don't need your pity."

"You know, Blaise was right."

"Why is that."

"We really are a lot alike. I expect I have a lot to learn from you."

He frowned. "And vice versa."

With a sudden impulsiveness, I let go of his hand and snaked my arms around his waist. I stood pressed against him, my forehead against his neck and holding his stiff frame before he wrapped his arms around me too. We stood there for a long moment, his cheek leaned against my head and my hands stroking his back, before we broke apart.

Draco cleared his throat. I felt my face growing warm. "I bet there is some chocolate in the kitchens," I said, stumbling from the niche.

He grinned for just a moment, until something behind me caught his eye, and he pulled me back into the niche with him where we couldn't be seen. "Look," he said in my ear.

Theodore Nott was standing just outside the great hall talking with another student who was hidden in the shadows. We were too far away to hear what was being said, but moments later, Anthony Goldstein stepped into the light. He looked scared, but not of Nott, who had just put his hand on the Ravenclaw boy's shoulder.

"Merlin's beard," I whispered as Nott leaned forward to whisper in Anthony's ear and pat him on the back. He left Anthony in the doorway to the great hall and after a moment Anthony followed him. My insides burned and I left our hiding place.

"His name was on the list," he said close behind me.

I nodded.

"Do you think," he said, but his voice trailed off.

"I know." I stormed away. I'd be daft to confront him in front of the whole school. I saw red, the castle halls a blur, and I might have been running because I was out of breath when the door the common room slammed behind me. In the dark my mind quieted and I began to form a plan. I'd find him tonight. It was my night for rounds and I'd find him before he reached the Ravenclaw common room. Like many Ravenclaws, Anthony spent most of his time in the library. I'd wait for him outside, and make him confess, torture him if I had to. I'd take him to Ginny and Neville, and when they heard what he had to say they'd take me back.

'But what about Draco,' my conscience provided. I looked around the common room but I was alone. He hadn't followed me back. In my haste and rage I must have lost him, or perhaps he felt this was my duty alone. I waited for a long time undisturbed in the common room, and when 9:00 rolled around, when the 5th years were ushered back to their common rooms, I headed to the library.

Students left in twos and threes as the time approached 10:00, when sixth and seventh years were required to be in their common rooms also, but Anthony didn't appear. At 10:10, I scurried from my shadowy vantage point and to the large double doors of the library. Madam Pince was re-shelving books, and I came up behind her without a sound.

"Stupefy," I whispered, and the librarian slumped to the floor. I dragged her to her office and locked the door. If Anthony was in here, I didn't want to be disturbed. If he wasn't, at least my search would be unnoticed.

But I was lucky. He was hunkered in a private corner, books stacked around him. As I approached, I cleared my throat.

He sat up and groaned. "Alright, Madam. I'll be on my way." He turned towards me to put a book in his bag, and I punched him hard in the face. He toppled out of his chair, landing on hands and knees. He looked up at me, and I punched him again. A spurt of blood stained the floor.

"What did you do, Anthony?" I whispered. I grabbed him by his robes, pushing him onto his back.

He slapped at me, but I knocked his hands away.

"Tell me what you did, or Merlin help me I will kill you."

He grimaced, and I saw that I'd knocked out one of his front teeth. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I took out my wand, and standing over him I felt rage boil up in me. "Say that again, Anthony."

He tried to sit up, but I stepped on his chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I slashed my wand and a gash formed on his face. His eyes were streaming. "And they say Ravenclaws are supposed to be clever." I leaned down. "What did you do?"

"I didn't want to," he cried. "Nott said he'd make sure my parents got attacked like your dad did unless I helped him."

"And you told him about the DA? You let him blame it on me?"

The bookshelf beside me exploded. Books rained down on Anthony and me, and I ran for cover. Anthony ran too, but I shot a spell at him, the first spell I could think of. He tripped and vanished. Before the consequences of what I'd just done could sink in, my wand flew from my hand. I scrambled away from three figures that approached. It was Theodore Nott and members of the Carrows' inquisitorial squad. I'd just escaped behind a heavy desk when another explosive curse made more books rain down around me. I picked up a heavy manuscript and just as one of the squad turned the corner, I pitched it at her head. It hit her with a sickening fwack, and knocked her unconscious.

The rest were coming and I didn't have a wand to defend myself. I ran down aisle, curses flying around me, making fizzing sounds as they barely missed. I saw my wand. It was lying at the intersection of aisles, and I ran for it. I stumbled and caught it just in time to block a curse sent at me by a redheaded Slytherin. I disarmed him and as his eyes widened with shock, I transfigured him into a slug. I picked him up and threw him down the aisle where he landed on the girl I'd stunned.

"Crucio!" Nott shouted.

A body hit me and I fell sprawling against a bookshelf. There was a terrible scream, and it took me a moment to understand what I was seeing. Draco was lying on the ground where I had just been and Nott was standing over him. Nott's face was blank with surprise, and Draco's was twisted in pain. I pointed my wand at Nott but with a flick of his he disarmed me again. My mind was blank, my muscles operating on rage alone, and I charged Nott, tackling him to the ground. I heard his head crack against the floor and kneeling on his chest, I wailed on him with my fists. He grabbed me by the throat, but I twisted his hand backwards by the thumb until I heard it pop. He howled, and I knocked his teeth in. I tore his wand from his hand, and standing, I kicked him hard in the stomach. He coughed and groaned.

I found my wand a short distance away, and I pointed both at Nott. "Laesione," I said calmly, and Nott's skin erupted in cuts and sores. His screams and moans joined Draco's. I stumbled over fallen books to the other two inquisitors, and modified their memories. I pointed my wand at Nott again, and felt it would be too kind to relieve him of his memory of this encounter as he shouted curses at me. I put a special curse on him that would keep him from telling anyone who had done this to him. His lips sealed, and his curses became furious mumbles. His eyes burned with loathing, and I stunned him.

Draco groans were loud in the now silent library. I kneeled next to him. "Why'd you have to do that?" I asked. "Why'd you take that curse?"

He just shook his head, eyes closed.

"Draco?" I touched his shoulder. He was tense and shaking. He took a rattling breath and opened his eyes. Tears poured from them.

"It hurts," he cried.

I looked back at Nott. "That's not possible. He's unconscious. He can't still be cursing you."

He writhed and cried out. "Help me," he groaned.

My hands shook, but I managed to pull him off the ground. "We need to get out of here."

With his arm around my shoulder, I dragged him along at a painfully slow pace, all while Draco was repressing sobs. My muscles burned, but I knew we couldn't stop until we got to the common room, and I couldn't slow down because his sanity was at stake.

It seemed like forever before I was able to put him down on my bed where he lay gasping. I'd tried to talk to him on the way up, but he was mostly unresponsive. He was barely there at all now. I pressed my hand to his face, and he couldn't meet my eyes. But he did press his face into my hand just a little, groaning when I took it away.

"Oh!" I gasped. Something sparked in my memory, a passage in one of the dark books on curses that the room of requirement provided for my studies. It was on lingering curses. It mentioned in a footnote that sometimes in the case of the cruciatus curse, if the recipient of the curse was not the intended victim, the curse could linger for hours. I took Draco's tie off him and began unbuttoning his shirt. The book said there was no counter curse, that it would continue to cause agony until it faded. I pressed my hand to his chest and almost immediately, he relaxed. The only cure for this effect of the cruciatus curse is skin on skin contact with the intended victim.

After a long minute during which Draco breathed as though he had sprinted a mile, and I knelt uncomfortably beside him, holding my hand firmly against his chest, he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly.

"What was that?" he asked, voice raspy.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows and rubbed his eyes as I explained about the lingering effect. It took a while and I had to explain some things a couple of times. Once I was finished, he stared vacantly at the space next to me. "I wouldn't have taken that curse if I knew that was going to happen."

I scoffed. "Me neither, if it were you. I'm surprised you did it anyway. You've been under the cruciatus curse. You know what it's like."

He lay back down, closing his eyes. "I didn't really think about what I was doing."

"You would have better had my back if you hadn't. You could have hit Nott with a curse while he was cursing me and the whole thing would have been over more cleanly."

Draco shrugged. "I'll remember not to take a curse for you next time."

"I am grateful, I think. It's the thought that counts." I leaned back, the pressure of my hand on his chest lifting. He reached for it, holding my hand fast to his skin. "I'm just taking my shoes off. Don't worry."

He nodded but looked pale and sweaty again. "I don't think whatever that curse did is over."

I untied my laces and kicked off my shoes and curled up more comfortably on the bed next to Draco. "I didn't think it would. It goes away faster with the contact, but not right away."

I stroked his face, wiping at the drying tear stains that traveled from his eyes to his hairline. He sighed, then sat up. I found myself looking into a searching gaze, eyes narrow but vulnerable. He brushed at my cheek.

"You were hit?" he muttered.

I touched my cheekbone and felt a tenderness there. "I suppose I was. It was all adrenalin, I don't really remember it."

He watched me closely, and I couldn't look him in the eye. "I wish you wouldn't look at me like that."

He sneered, the way he had since we were first years. "Like what?"

'Like you're not the heartless monster I've always believed you were. Like you just took a curse for me. Like you want something from me in return.' But instead of saying these things, I kissed him.

My mind was gone. He moulded his lips to mine and thread his fingers into my hair right away. It was beautiful and unexpected. He smelled so good, his skin felt so good under my fingertips as I slipped them around his back under his shirt. We left our clothes behind, our bodies meshed, and the night flowed around us. We sunk into darkness and held each other as someone woke in the castle.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: This story is based on the stories and characters created by JK Rowling, and inspired by the poems of T.S. Eliot. I do not own these characters or inspirational ideas, and no money is being made.

Friends, readers, FandomLords, welcome back to this fic. I appreciate your patience with my long hiatus. Life got in the way but in the interim, this story has become one hell of a beast. I will be making some changes that I want you all to be aware of: I will be re-naming this story in the near future (and I am accepting suggestions). I'm doing rolling edits as I write. The plot will remain the same but as I write, my writing improves and I can't help going back and editing. Finally, I will soon begin publishing a companion story to this one. It's another OC pairing with a masculine character, but not from the same time period. The stories will intersect eventually, so I want to be writing them simultaneously. Thank you again for your patience, and thank you everyone for your past comments. They're what keep me writing. Cheers, thevillainsmustache.

Chapter 16. The sacrifice that we denied

In my dream, I was standing on a high limb of a great tree, looking up at its roots and waves of yellow grass crashing on the trunk. Air swirled my hair around me, and I looked down and to see the sun approach. He turned into a little white bird that perched on my foot, scorching frozen toes. He climbed with aching gentleness, wings gripping me strong as a man's hands, up my bare leg, hip, waist, chest, shoulder. He nestled into my cheek and the heat killed me. I burned to cinders, scorching the underside of the limb where I stood.

When I woke up, my cheek was burning. Something hot and sticky was pressed to my face and I prised it off. Draco's face fell to rest against my shoulder and he sighed in his sleep. In the semi-light of the lamps still lit, he looked flushed and unhealthy, the blue crescents around his eyes were darker now than I had seen them before. I worried the curse was still affecting him, and I rubbed his back. He sighed again. I wanted him to wake up and find me still asleep, for him to be the one wake up and, in a vacuum, think about what we'd done. Maybe he could come to some resolve, leave me in my bed to wake up alone. I wouldn't pretend to be asleep to shirk the responsibility fate left on my shoulders, but I didn't know what to do with it.

My choice was made for me when there was a brisk knock at my door. I waited with wide eyes and the knock came again, louder this time. I wiggled out from under Draco, who groaned, quickly wrapping a robe around my body. I opened the door and Professor McGonagall stood before me, lamp in hand.

I fussed with my hair, making it look less recently fucked. "What can I do for you, Professor?"

"There has been an incident." Her eyes raked my appearance, and her frown deepened.

"What kind of incident?"

"Several students appear to have been attacked in the library late last night. As head boy and girl, you and Mr. Malfoy need be informed fully of the incident and listen to the victims statements. Mr. Malfoy didn't answer his door. Please wake him, and report to the hospital wing immediately."

I glanced behind me unconsciously. "I feel that the teachers are more qualified to handle an investigation than Malfoy or me. Isn't our presence a little redundant? Can't we just be informed later about the details?"

McGonagall glanced over my shoulder to the room behind me, but I shifted to block her view. "I'm afraid the decision to involve you two isn't up to me." She stepped back as if to leave, then raised her wand, flicking it in my face. I felt my cheek grow hot, then cold, and I reached up to touch it. The tenderness of the bruise that was blossoming there had gone. "Hospital wing, Ms. Ollivander. Immediately."

I shut the door, and Draco was already sitting on the edge of the bed, pants on.

"McGonagall wants us in the Hospital wing," I said, leaning my head against the wall.

He walked to the door. "So I heard."

In 5 minutes, we were quickly walking down the dark halls, wands lighting the way. Draco said nothing on our way, grimacing in moody silence, and I did the same. Sleep, surprise, and an overload of emotion made the world feel distant. I knocked on the hospital wing door, and with Draco at my side, we entered.

Globes of light hung over three occupied beds, and the faculty were collected around one of them. It was the only bed with a conscious occupant, and my eyes locked on Nott's the moment we entered. He fumed, and if I hadn't been terrified I might have grinned at him.

"Good," said Electo, "we've even waiting for you, Malfoy. Come over here. I want you to hear what Nott has to say." All the teachers were dressed in housecoats, and no one except McGonagall acknowledged my entrance. Draco grumbled and strutted forward. Again, I wanted to grin. He and the Carrows were equal in the Dark Lord's ranks, and it was only as his teacher that she had the authority to push him around. She and her brother had been guests in his house, but they treated him as if he were just a student.

He sat in a chair by the bed, looking for all the world like a concerned head boy, but I could see the pleasure he was holding back. I stood looking over Slughorn's shoulder, letting a grin slip onto my lips.

Nott was beaten to a pulp, his nose broken, lips swollen, and had two black eyes. He could only squint around at the teachers. His glower was much less scary when it came from bloodshot and purple eyes.

"Go ahead," said Snape, whom I hadn't noticed as she was standing in the shadows. "Tell us what happened to you."

Nott clutched at the sheets on his bed, his right hand wrapped in bandages. "I was doing my rounds with two members of the inquisitorial squad when we heard a commotion in the library. We investigated and intervened in a fight between two students."

"And who were these students?" Amycus growled.

"Anthony Goldstein. He's a good bloke and I don't think he started the fight."

"And the other?"

Nott looked like he was going to throw up. I took a step back, biting my fist to hold back my laughter.

"Go ahead," said Draco. "If you're scared, we can protect you from whoever did this." I could hear the grin in his voice.

"I'm not scared, Malfoy," but he did look a little scared. His face was beet red and he swayed. Everyone jumped back as he vomited in his lap.

Madam Pomfrey rushed forward, magicing the sick away. "Please, he needs to rest. This interrogation can wait for a few hours."

Nott laid down, but not before shooting me with a ferocious look.

The teachers gathered away from Nott and beckoned Draco and me forward.

"It doesn't seem like we will be able to get the identity of the attacker from Mr. Nott," said Snape, "but perhaps when the others wake we will learn more. Filius, have you been able to find Mr. Goldstein?"

Professor Flitwick shuffled forward. "He's not in bed, and we've searched the castle. Perhaps he is afraid of being in trouble, so he is hiding."

"Oh, I don't know, Filius," said Professor Sprout. "With the extent of these student's injuries, I think trouble would be the least Mr. Goldstein's worries."

Snape cut across her. "I want the search to continue, and I want to speak with him the moment he is found. Amycus, Alecto, be sure the inquisitorial squad is on high alert. It could be that whoever did this is targeting them. Malfoy, Ollivander, please inform the prefects of Mr. Goldstein's disappearance. I want everyone looking for him." There was a pause, and Snape's eyes fell onto mine, beetle black and searching. I felt his mind intruding on mine, and I looked away, feeling violated. "You may go."

Draco and I wandered out with the professors. My glee at having cursed Nott into being unable to identify me as his attacker was tainted by the fear that Snape had read my mind and knew what I had done. I walked away sulkily, and I didn't realise until it was too late that Draco and I were alone in the corridor.

He took my hand and roughly pulled me into an alcove behind a suit of armour. Before I could say anything, his lips were on mine. I laced my fingers through his hair, and he held me tight by the waist, our bodies flush. I luxuriated in the feeling, his lips warm and soft, his cool smell, his tongue dancing over mine, before a feeling dropped into my stomach.

I pulled away, looking into his grey eyes, darker now than usual. He licked his lips and I wanted so much to hold him, hold my lips to his until we both suffocated.

"We need to go," I whispered. "It's not safe."

He nodded, disappointment creasing his forehead. I plunged my hands into my robes as an excuse not to hold his.

We reached the common room, and I wavered on the spot. "I'm going to shower," I said, almost in a whisper. I didn't look at him, but I could feel Draco watching me as I climbed the stares to my room, slamming the door behind me.

Hot water steamed up the bathroom and scalded my skin as I stood in the shower for a long time thinking. Draco's expression, his eyes wide and unguarded, disappointed and insecure, stood stark in my mind every time I closed my eyes. He'd never looked at me like that before, and my chest ached to think of it. I wanted that. I wanted it from him.

I remembered last night in flashes, and as my hands ran over the marks on my skin, the story resolved itself. Dark purple bruises and slashes in the skin on my knuckles stung under the water. I'd hit Anthony, felt his teeth break under my fists. I cursed him, used the spell I'd made up to make things disappear. Now Snape and the Carrows were searching for him. They'd never find him, because wherever he was he was good as dead. I knew the counter curse of course, but he was invisible, silent, intangible. Even if I ran around the castle firing the counter curse at empty space, Anthony would starve to death before I managed to hit my mark. Something hurt deep inside at that thought.

There as a soft spot on my temple where a book had hit me. I fought off three members of the inquisitorial squad. Two of them now lay unconscious in the hospital wing with no memory of the battle. They wouldn't be a problem anymore. I found more soft spots across my face. There were no marks to indicate their presence, as McGonagall had magically wiped them away, but they still hurt. I'd fought Nott, knocked him to the ground, and physically assaulted him and taken his wand. He was a bloody pulp in the hospital wing, and while I'd left him with his memories, the curse I placed on him made it physically impossible for him to disclose the identity of his attacker. I grinned at my own cleverness. It was such a fitting punishment.

The muscles in my arms, legs, and back ached viscously. Nott had tried to curse me. Draco knocked me out the way, and took the curse instead, but even after I'd dispatched Nott, Draco suffered. I practically carried him all the way to the common room. I remembered the mingled fear of being caught as Draco's cries echoed down the halls, and progressive deterioration of his sanity as agony tore relentlessly at him. By the time we reached my bed his eyes had rolled back into his head, and I thought all was lost. It was sheer luck that I remembered that footnote, and a shiver ran through me even in the hot water as I thought of what would have happened if luck had not been on my side.

It had all been okay, though. The moment I pressed my hand to his chest firmly, his breathing eased and Draco had looked at me in the most peculiar way. It had been an impulse that made me kiss him, the smirk on his face and the sadness in his eyes. It was an impulse, but right away I knew it was no mistake. I heard his sharp intake of breath, felt his lisps open under mine as he gasped. It lasted only for a moment, the surprise. His hand tightened over mine and he kissed me back almost tenderly. I felt his fingers move up my arm to my shoulder where they cupped my neck and laced through my hair. My lips moved hungrily against his, licking and biting, eliciting sweet gentle moans. It became suddenly urgent that I be close to him, and I wrapped my arms around his back, feeling his smooth skin and lean muscles. I greedily breathed in his scent and his touch, and a soft moan left my lips. His hands wandered, squeezing my ass, my thighs, pulling behind the knee that was closest to him. I gasped as he guided my leg over his hips, so that I was straddling him. I opened my eyes to see his grey eyes dark and burning. He pulled me down again to kiss him, and I luxuriated in the heat of his body so close to mine, his silky hair under my fingers, and the feel of him between my legs. As our tongues danced, I felt his hands on my shirt, tugging uselessly at the buttons. His fingers were shaking. I guided his hands back to me and took over undoing of my blouse. It fell to the floor, soon to be joined by Draco's and I'd never felt so hot in my life as he held me closer, his soft skin against mine. He traced my jaw with his lips and nibbled at my neck, which left me gasping. I needed him closer. With one deft move, I popped the clasp on my bra and right away his hands wandered over my breasts. My body sung under his touch, and he hummed in pleasure against my throat.

I had been nervous. He wrapped his arms strongly around my waist, holding me to him and I listened to his heavy breathing against my shoulder between his kisses. I was beginning to feel heat spreading up and down from my stomach, a blush creeping up my neck and a slickness spreading between my thighs. I was nervous because my body so obviously wanted Draco, and he wanted me, but even in this very hot moment I couldn't forget who he was, who I was, and that I was not an experienced lover. I felt myself pull away from him, my hands pressed against his shoulders, and it was just then that he raised his lips to my ear, nibbling at the lobe.

"Frey," he breathed. "Please don't stop."

The aching gravel in his voice slew me, and I clutched him closer rather than pushing him away, letting my weight settle onto him. I kissed just under his ear and groaned, "I want you so badly."

In a moment his hands were unclasping my skirt, our bodies parting just long enough for him to pull it over my head. I fumbled with the buttons on his trousers, and in one swift move he rolled me over, his elbows by my chest, his lips at my throat. Draco struggled and kicked until his trousers were on the floor with the rest of our clothes, and he lay on top of me, his weight feeling fantastic. His arm moved to hold my hips, and I felt him hard between my thighs, grinding against me, nothing but our knickers between us. I held his face for a moment between my hands, and he slowed the dance of fondle and grind. I stared into his eyes, cool grey and dark with lust, and watched as they softened. He kissed my cheek.

And all I wanted was to be closer to him.

I pulled at the band of his pants and listened to his groan as I felt him in my hand, warm and splendidly hard. His hands mimicked mine, pushing down the front of my knickers. He licked my throat and bit my ear, his fingers dancing over the slick folds of my labia. A groan rumbled up from deep in my chest. I reached down and pulled off my knickers. He tore off his pants. He rolled his hips, rubbing against me and sending me almost blind with pleasure. He kissed my cheeks, caressed my breasts. I flexed my hips, the head of his penis dipping into my labia.

Draco stopped moving, and gave me a long searching look. I felt myself drowning in his eyes.

"Do you want this?" he whispered.

My lips stretched into a smile. "Yes."

Smugness bloomed in his face. He flexed his hips and we moaned in unison. My memory became more feeling than a timeline. It was the feeling of grey eyes and breath on my neck, rising heat and feet wrapped around his back, the way his body tensed before he came, holding him and giggling under the rain of kisses. He pressed a hand to my belly, looking longingly at me.

"You didn't finish?"

I shook my head, and as his hand traveled south, I clarified, "I just want to be here with you. I can't finish now anyway."

His eyes narrowed and he looked for all the world a petulant child who had been denied ice-cream. He drew kisses up my neck and whispered. "There will be time for that later." It was a promise and a threat.

In the present, I trembled kneeling in the shower basin, hot water flowing over me, choking my sobs. I clapped a hand over my mouth as I cried out in ecstasy, my other hand jammed between my thighs, rubbing over my clit and labia. I knew where I was, and images of the night before still flashed through my mind: images of Draco, his hands on me, his mouth on mine, his pleasure, pain. I saw him on the floor of the library, writhing under the curse that was meant for me. He wouldn't have been there if it weren't for me. My fault.

My orgasm faded and a pain in my chest grew until I choked on sobs. My legs went numb as I sat under the heavy pour of water while tears poured down my face. I cried for my father, I cried for my friends, and I cried for Draco. They'd all been hurt so badly because of me, even by me. I thought about Anthony and my crying stopped, and emptiness taking the place of the pain. I'd all but killed him.

It felt like an age had gone by, but ten minutes after I'd entered, I left the shower with a plan in mind. Draco had gotten close to me, and been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn't want that to happen again, but where ever I went, danger followed. If I hadn't been so selfish in the first place, I could have saved my friends from some of their suffering. I'd learned from my mistakes.

I made up my mind to leave Draco alone. He was a player and he knew the game. He'd understand. My stomach ached with more than hunger or nerves. I had to admit to myself that my choice meant something. I wasn't willing to give up a friendship with Draco for my own safety and that of my friends when Nott was blackmailing me, but I could do it now. Did I finally see what I might lose, or did I see what there was to gain? As I readied myself for class, I couldn't believe the day had only just begun.


End file.
